


Bend For Me

by heyjayyay



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The 100 (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Yoga, Angst and Humor, Anxiety Attacks, Clexa, Clexa fanfic, Commander Lexa, Drunk Clarke, Drunk Lexa, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Frat Boy Clarke Griffin, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Multi, References to Depression, Sad Clarke, Sad Lexa, Slow Burn, Teasing, The 100 - Freeform, The 100 Femslash, Triggers, bend for me, clexa au, clexa fanfiction, fratboy!clarke, sloppy!clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:36:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 123,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6750469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjayyay/pseuds/heyjayyay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sloppy, Fratboy!Clarke lives with Octavia, who drags her to her yoga class one day. Clarke is the shit. She knows it. She’s cocky and doesn’t take crap from anyone, doesn’t bend for anybody, and refuses to break. Until now. </p>
<p>AKA the one where Clarke thinks she’s smooth, but Lexa is smoother. </p>
<p>Yoga AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Yoga Instructor

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE do not tweet this or any of my fics at Eliza. People have been asking me to share my stories with her. I do not want to do that. There is mature content in them. That's so awkward for her! Don't do it. So please, do not tag Eliza or any of the cast when discussing my stories.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is used to getting what she wants, easily able to charm girls and boys with her winning smile and dazzling eyes. But when Octavia takes her to her yoga studio, the blonde suddenly becomes a complete mess for a very attractive brunette.

6:45 on a Saturday morning and Clarke is lounging in the small apartment she shared with her childhood friend, adorned in a tattered paint stained t-shirt and Dorito dust sprinkled across her chest. A pair of loose basketball shorts hang around her waist, belonging to a random hook up she can’t remember the name of. The television is playing some random MTV rerun that she half pays attention to as she snacks waiting for her roommate to get dressed.

The brunette insisted on showering and making herself look presentable, despite the fact that they were just going to end up gross again.

_Look good, feel good_. Octavia had defended.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” Clarke whined dramatically through her final handful of chips. She tosses aside the bag to drag herself off the couch. In her haste, a few crumbs fall onto the upholstery. She makes a quick glance in the direction of her roommate’s bedroom before brushing them onto the floor.

“I saw that.” Octavia berates, calling out. “You’re vacuuming when we get back.” She scolds.

“Wha?” She leans forward to check down the hall. She definitely couldn’t have been able to see what the blonde had done. “But I…”

“Come on, Clarke.” The brunette appears from the shadows, propping herself against the wall to slip on a pair of sneakers. “We’re going to be late.”

The blonde grumbles, slipping on her own pair of shoes.

 “Nobody sane willingly gets up this early on a Saturday morning to physically exert themselves.” Clarke pouts.

“Of course they do.” The brunette chirps. “Lincoln and I do.”

“Yeah, morning sex.” Clarke laughs as she grabs her snapback from the coffee table, flipping her hair once before placing it on her head.

“ _No.”_ Octavia rolls her eyes. “To _exercise_.” She clarifies, swiping the keys from the counter. “Besides, you could use some as well.” She lectures.

“Calling me fat, Blake?” Clarke challenges, raising a brow.

“Nah.” Her roommate shoots back. “Just lazy.”

“Alright.” Clarke shrugs. “That’s fair.” She chuckles.

They lock the door behind them before taking the stairs down to the brunette’s car. Octavia had a thing against elevators and Clarke hated it. She especially hated it at 6:45 in the morning.

“Ugh!” She groans, lowering the lid of her hat. “It’s so bright.” She complains, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Baby.” Octavia teases.

“Gotta keep these blue eyes protected. You never know when I might need to use them to charm somebody.” She beams, battling her eyes obnoxiously at the shorter girl.

“You’re such a dick.” The brunette shoves her in the direction of the car, pressing the button on her keys to unlock the door.

Clarke flops into the front seat, not bothering to buckle her seatbelt as Octavia starts the engine.

“So, why can’t Lincoln go with you again? I’m not really the most flexible person.” She looks out the window as they drive through downtown Washington, DC. The studio isn’t far and there luckily isn’t any traffic this early in the morning.

“Oh, don’t I know it.” Octavia jokes.

“Fuck off.” Clarke shoots back, but there’s a smile on her face.

“You’re so stubborn sometimes.” Octavia continues to banter. “I don’t know how anyone tolerates you. I don’t know how _I_ tolerate you.”

“Because I’m a God damned angel.” She smirks. “And I let you drag me against my will to a 7 am yoga class with a killer hangover, might I add. I should be getting serious brownie points for this.”

Octavia laughs, eyes still keyed in on the road ahead of them.

“One, _God damned angel_ is an oxymoron, moron. Two, you basically just admitted you’re losing your touch, _party girl_.” She says mockingly. “And _three_...” She drags out. “You know you’re completely willing to go just so you can see girls in yoga pants. I know you’re a butt person. You tend to stare at them a lot.”

“I see you in those things all the time.” She defends. “But yeah, I guess you’re right.” She laughs along. “So true.”

They drive for another two miles before the brunette pulls of at the exit, turning into a small complex.

“Alright. Come on.” Octavia says, unfastening her seatbelt. “We’re here.”

_Trikru Yoga Studio._ The sign reads.  

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, sensei.” Clarke brushes off with a dramatic salute, swinging out of the vehicle and slamming the door a little too harshly.

“Easy!” Octavia scolds. “And that’s tai chi.” She corrects, locking the car with a beep.

“Same difference.” The blonde rolls her eyes.

The studio is small and smells slightly of rubber and one of those cheap air fresheners you’d find at Walmart with an obnoxious name like _Oceanside Summer_ or _Breezy Escape._

“Nice of you to join us, Octavia.” A brunette standing at the front of the class greets. She’s wearing the tightest pair of leggings Clarke had ever seen and a skimpy sports bra that accentuates her chest, exposing a tan, taught stomach.

“Sorry I’m a little late.” Her roommate apologizes as she hops on one foot to remove her shoes and socks. “I had to bring a different partner with me today.” She explains. “Lincoln’s out of town visiting his family this weekend.”

“I see that.” The instructor nods. “And you are?” She prompts.

Clarke stands completely dumbstruck through the entire exchange, eyes raking over the girl’s slender frame, long legs, and toned arms.

Octavia gives her a nudge with her elbow.

“Oh.” She stumbles over her words. “Uhh. I’m uhh…”

Her roommate quirks a brow in amusement, reveling in the completely out of character response.

“Miss Eloquent here is Clarke.” Octavia answers for her.

Green eyes twinkle in greeting. “Hello Clarke, welcome. I’m Lexa.” She introduces herself.

“Have a seat ladies.” She gestures to the two open mats closest to the mirrors at the front of the room.

She feels judgmental eyes on her as the pair make their way to the front. Clarke immediately regrets not taking Octavia’s lead and showering first. She probably reeks of beer and smoke. She takes her snapback off, tying up her hair into a sloppy bun before sitting awkwardly on the cushiony material.

“Let’s start with some sun salutations, shall we?” The instructor begins, sitting gracefully, crossing her legs and straightening her back. “Let’s open up our chests, feeling our spines elongate. Imagine a string tugging lightly at your head while your tailbone sinks into the Earth.” She narrates and Clarke can’t help but smirk trying her best not to laugh as the rest of the room, including Octavia, follows her instructions, closing their eyes and inhaling slowly. Clarke can’t believe they actually are falling for this mumbo jumbo that Lexa was reciting. 

“Breathe in.” Lexa instructs, peeking one eye open and the blonde bites her lip, trying to calm her amusement.

Clarke clears her throat, screwing her eyes shut.

“Breathe out.” The brunette instructs, letting her eyelids flutter as well. When Clarke reopens her eyes, she sees that the instructor is poised, long lashes casting shadows along her prominent cheek bones and Clarke finds herself wishing they’d open so she can see those emerald orbs again.

She lets out an abrupt huff through her nostrils and the corner of the teacher’s mouth twitches upwards, eyes still closed.

“Again.” Lexa says, voice calm and low. “Let’s try to breathe a little _slower_ this time.” She encourages.

She can hear Octavia snickering next to her, the comment obviously directed at Clarke.

She pouts, squeezing her eyes shut again.

“Focus on my voice.” Lexa’s voice floats. Clarke tries to tune into the brunette, but the room is full of sound; a water machine, low music, the obnoxious whistle of the stuffy nose of the girl sitting behind her. Yoga is supposed to be calming, but Clarke finds herself feeling overly stimulated, senses keyed into her surroundings.

“Block out the world.” The brunette repeats. “Let your chest inflate. Fill it with clarity. Exhale anxiety.” She says.

Clarke is trying to be serious, really, she is, but God does this all sound like a loud of bull. Instead, her blue eyes open, watching the instructor’s breathing patterns, sports bra shaping around the rise and fall of her chest. Clarke stares, captivated.

“In. Out. In. Out.” Lexa repeats the mantra, until suddenly her eyes flutter open, green eyes catching Clarke’s gaze. Clarke diverts her eyes, cheeks tinting pink with embarrassment of having been caught.

When Clarke looks back, the brunette’s eyes are closed once again. Lexa release a puff of air through her nose, lips quirked up amused.

“Good, class.” She speaks, tone level and collected. “I can tell that some of you were _very focused_.” She compliments. It’s another jab.

“Now allow yourself to come back, bringing your awareness to the sound of my voice. Listen to our surroundings. Feel your consciousness shift.”

Lexa slowly opens her eyes, green orbs trained on Clarke as the room comes back to life.

“Very nice.” She says. “Let’s move on to a simple stretch. Let’s all lay on our stomachs.” She instructs. “Since this is an open class, we have a few varied skill levels.” Lexa observes. “For the next movement, watch me first. I’ll walk you through it, then you can modify as needed.” She details.

“Our first move will be the cobra. All you have to do is keep your feet together, ankles touching. Press your palms into the mat and lift your upper body to the sky.” She arches as she dictates. “You should feel a nice stretch in your stomachs, especially your abdomen, and lower back.” She says, chin tilted upwards, exposing her neck and cutting jawline.

“From here you have two options.” She looks back down at the class for a moment, scanning the room as her eyes settle on Clarke last.

“The first is the locust.” She introduces. “Slowly, when you’re ready, lift your arms back and raise your legs. You should feel a tightness in your rear. This will help strengthen and tone your butt.” She blushes and Clarke can’t help but smirk, watching the girl’s muscles tense. She hears Octavia cough “ _perv_ ” in her direction. But she flashes the brunette a fake smile, simply being a good, _highly attentive_ student.

“And if you want to challenge your flexibility instead of strength, you can reach your arms back all the way and grab onto your ankles like this.” She curves her spine and her long slender fingers wrap around thin ankles, chest now fully on display.

All Clarke can think of is _fuck._

“If you want, you can even rock a little.” Lexa smiles shyly as she demonstrates.  With every tilt, Clarke gets a full view down the girl’s bra. _Fucking fuck._

“Okay.” She slowly releases her limbs. “Let’s all get into cobra pose and I’ll come around and help you get into your next position.”

Lexa goes to Octavia, who is already being a star pupil, configuring her body into the elaborate pose while Clarke fumbles next to her, struggling just to arch her back enough into the introductory position.

“Great!” Lexa praises. “Perfect, Octavia. Just keep breathing.” She compliments and Octavia beams cockily at Clarke and her clumsy self.

Lexa moves to the blonde, green eyes warm and sparkling.

“How are you doing, Clarke?” She asks and the blue-eyed girl feels herself turn stupidly into jelly at the girl’s sultry whisper of her name. Her arms buckle slightly as a result.

“Looks like you’re a little _too_ relaxed.” The instructor teases, lowering herself to sit cross legged in front of the struggling blonde. “Up you go.” She places her hands on Clarke’s ribcage, hoisting her back into place. Clarke is pretty sure she’s going to die, her skin searing through her t-shirt.

 “Locust or bow?” Lexa asks. She’s so close that Clarke can see the slightest ring of brown around her pupil, sprouting out into green. A forest.

“W-What?” Clarke stammers.

“The pose.” Emerald eyes sparkle. “What would you like to do?”

_You._ Clarke’s brain screams.

“Uhh? Bow?” She asks. Lexa lets her hands graze over Clarke’s shoulders so she can fall forward, pulling her arms behind her. The brunette leans in and Clarke finds herself at eye level with the girl’s chest.

_Yep. She’s definitely dead._

“Relax.” Lexa urges. Her wrists are on Clarke’s as she directs her hands to grasp at her ankles. “Breathe, Clarke. You’re doing great.”

“Nice job.” She compliments. “Hold that pose for as long as you’re comfortable.” She gives Clarke’s shoulder a squeeze, standing to move on to the next student. Within seconds, Clarke can no longer hold on, releasing her grip as her limbs collide harshly with the mat.

“Shit.” The blonde mumbles and Octavia giggles, rocking in her bowed position, purposefully gloating at her roommate.

“Everything alright.” Lexa’s head shoots up, craning her neck over the student she’s working with.

“Yeah. Just a little more intense than I thought I’d be.” Clarke sits up, legs splayed out in front of her in defeat.

“No worries.” Lexa nods in understanding. “Relax and take it slow. No one has a hold on you.” She says, as she positions the other student’s arms properly to support her weight.

“You’re good at this.” Octavia whispers, tauntingly.

“I hate this.” Clarke grumbles.

“You know that you don’t.” Octavia smirks, closing her eyes again, inhaling deeply. Clarke sits and waits for the rest of the room to get into positions as she chews her lip, fidgeting.

“Excellent.” Lexa brings her hands together for a single, soft clap. “Let’s switch positions now to downward dog.” She returns to the front of the room, getting on her hands and knees, walking her palms backwards until her hands are aligned below her shoulders, posterior straight up in the air. She looks up to the class, a smile playing on her lips.

_Fucking Hell._ This class was going to be the death of her, if not the brunette at the front of the room.

“Now bring one leg forward to meet your hands, make sure to shift your weight.” She says patiently, pausing for the rest of the class to mimic her position. She reaches one arm to the ceiling. “Alright. Now we reach up, up, up.” She stretches. “This is known as triangle pose. You should feel it in your calves, opening your chest.”

_I’m feeling something somewhere._ Clarke rolls her eyes, muttering under her breath.

“And if you switch arms, this is a twisted triangle pose.” Lexa explains. The class does as she says, following her instructions.

“Good.” She gives a nod of approval. “Move back to center, weight evenly balanced on both feet. Now bend one knee at a right angle, feel your legs lengthening.” She says. “Let’s hold it here. For those who are more advanced, or would like a challenge, you can continue to extend your leg.” She demonstrates until her crotch is almost touching the floor, exhibiting her flexibility and strength. Clarke can’t help but be completely turned on when she girl pivots her foot out more and more until she’s in a split position.

Her jaw falls open, eyes widened. _Holy shit._

“Now we can switch to the other side and do the same.” Lexa maneuvers her feet back again, repeating the pose on the other side.

Clarke loses her balance for a moment, holding out her hands to catch herself.

“Fantastic job, guys.” Lexa gives her a kind smile. “You’re all doing so well, don’t forget to breathe.” She reminds.

“Raise your arms up now, staying in that same footing pattern.” Lexa returns her attention to the entire room. “Good. This is warrior’s pose.” She explains. “Switch legs to balance it out. Excellent!”

They move into a few more variations with Lexa explaining each one and the benefit it yields to one’s body, sprinkling the fluffy “yoggie” lingo throughout.  

By the time class is over, Clarke’s body is sore, aching, and she’s probably tenser than when she had started.

Octavia stays behind to chat with the instructor, leaving Clarke to fiddle with her shoes until Lexa turns her attention to the blonde in the corner.

“How did you like your first class, Clarke?” Lexa asks, taking a sip of water from her flower patterned water bottle, rolled up mat tucked under her arm as she walks to the parking lot with the two roommates.

“I can’t feel anything. I thought yoga was supposed to relax you.” The blonde pouts, turning her snapback to the side with a rough tug.

“It is.” Lexa nods, smiling playfully. “It takes a while to get totally comfortable and relax.” She consoles.

“Oh, trust me.” Octavia chimes in. “Clarke gets comfortable _really_ quickly.” She jabs. Clarke shoots her a glare.

“Maybe next time you will feel differently.” Lexa offers.

Clarke’s eyes widen. _Next time!?_

“Uhh.” She shutters. “There might not be a next time.”

“Hmm.” Lexa frowns. “Shame. But I respect your decision. It’s not for everybody.” She says sadly. “Thank you for giving it a try. It was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah, definitely.” She says all too quickly.

“Octavia,” Lexa redirecting her attention to the brunette. “Lunch with Lincoln and Anya when he returns?” She asks.

“Absolutely.” Her roommate nods enthusiastically. “And don’t forget about next Friday.”

Lexa gives a nod. “Can’t wait! Text me.” She gives a final wave.

“Will do!” Her roommate returns.

Clarke stares as Lexa walks away, climbing into her car.

“Earth to Clarke!” Octavia snaps her fingers in front of her face. “Come back to me, Clarke.” She teases.

The blonde jostles her head, blinking rapidly.

“Wow. What happened to you?” Octavia laughs, a knowing smile on her face. “You totally dig her, don’t you?” The brunette accuses, unlocking the car. They get back in, and the engine purring to life.

“What?” Clarke scoffs. “No! She probably eats granola for every meal and grows her own fruit in a small box garden in her flower decorated apartment.” She scrunches up her nose, spinning up a stereotypical impression of the departing girl.

Octavia shakes her head. “Nah. That’s just how she is in class. Lexa’s pretty cool when you get to know her.” Her roommate defends. “Come to the party with us next week and you’ll see.”

“I wasn’t invited.” Clarke shrugs.

“When has that every stopped you from crashing a party in the past?” Octavia tilts her head.

“Touché.” Clarke snaps her fingers, pointing a gun at her roommate.

“You’re really losing your touch.” The brunette teases.

“Am not.” She huffs, slouching into the passenger seat. “I’m just tired and dehydrated.”

“Yeah. Your thirst was _unreal._ Like, you weren’t just a little parched. You were in a fucking dessert and Lexa was an oasis.” Octavia continues to poke fun.

“Shut up.” Clarke grumbles.

“Oh suck it up!” Octavia jabs her in the ribs. “No really, you still have to vacuum. I haven’t forgotten.”

Clarke lets her head fall into her hands with a groan.


	2. The Life of the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's thirst is so real.

The week flies by without Clarke really even noticing. She’s swamped with her presentation and getting her portfolio completed for her gallery showcase. She’s in the living room, paints all over the coffee table and Clarke herself, when there’s a knock at the door.

“Get that, will you, Clarke?” Octavia shouts from down the hall.

She opens the door to find her breath knocked out of her. Standing before her is Lexa, pink lips turned up in a smile.

“Hello, Clarke. Nice to see you again.” She greets.

Blue eyes scan over the brunette, dressed in dark skin tight jeans, a red tank top, and dark leather jacket. Her hair is cascading over her shoulders, complimenting her collarbones. She’s almost unrecognizable from the girl she had met just a few days ago, with the exception of those incredible green eyes. Clarke could never forget those.

“Uhh. Hi.” Clarke says, jaw agape.

“Hello.” Lexa giggles. They stand I the doorway, Clarke’s brain completely short-circuiting.

“Would it be alright if I maybe came in?” She asks, amused with Clarke’s expression.

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Be my guest.” She nods.

 _Wow. Way to go. Real smooth, Griffin._ Clarke mentally kicks herself. _Get it together!_

“O!” She calls over her shoulder as they step inside. “Lexa’s here.”

The brunette peeks through the hall, one heel on, while she tries to hook an earring through her earlobe. “Oh hey!” She smiles.

“I brought a little something to pregame.” Lexa holds up two brown paper bags that Clarke had been too distracted to even notice initially.

“Awesome!” Her roommate cheers. “Go ahead and start. I’ll be ready in a sec.” She says hastily before scurrying off.

Lexa turns her attention back to Clarke. “Are you coming to the party with us, Clarke?”

The blonde nods dumbly.  “If that’s okay.”

“Of course.” Lexa grins. “We have enough mutual friends, I would suspect. Are you going to get ready as well?” She eyes the paint stained shirt that Clarke was still wearing.

 _Okay. Game on, Griffin_. You can do this. She gives herself a pep talk.

“You don’t like the look?” The blonde answers smoothly, quirking a brow.

“No.” Lexa shakes her head. “The look is great. The paint on your face is a bit distracting though.” She reaches out a hand, thumb caressing her cheekbone.

_Shit. Fuck. Abort! Abort!!!!_

“I umm. I was kidding.” Clarke stumbles. “I’m going to change.” She backs away. “Cups and shot glasses are in the cabinet, furthest one from the left. Help yourself.” She rambles. “Be right back!” She tries her best to exit gracefully, rounding the corner straight to Octavia’s room.

“You didn’t tell me she was coming _now!”_ Clarke hisses, closing the door behind her. “I look a mess.”

“You’re always a mess.” Octavia objects. “Besides, you said you weren’t into her. What does it matter? You’ve definitely looked worse.”

“Gee. Thanks, O.” Clarke says flatly.

“My pleasure.” The brunette quips.

“Why do I live with you again?” She huffs.

“No one else would tolerate your bullshit.” Octavia says confidently.

She groans, raking a hand through her hair. Her fingers get caught in the tangled locks. “Ugh. You’re right. I am a mess.” She flops on the bed.

“Come on.” Octavia places a hand on her back. “Just relax.” She consoles.

Clarke grunts into the pillow. “Clarkey.” Octavia sing songs, poking the blonde in the stomach until she squirms. Clarke was incredibly ticklish and Octavia knew it, using the little known fact to her advantage.

“Relax Clarke.” She teases, using the same breathy tone as the yoga instructor had done.

“I literally hate you.” Clarke lifts her head, taking the pillow from underneath her to whack the girl.

“Yeah, sure.” Octavia brushes off with a wave of her hand. “Now hurry up and pull yourself together.” She ushers her out. “I need to finish my makeup before Lincoln gets here. And somebody, aka _you_ , needs to keep Lexa company.”

“Neither of these options you’re giving me sounds appealing.” Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Sure.” Octavia calls her bluff. “Too bad,” She tempts. “Lexa texted after class and said she thought you were pretty cute.”

“What?” The blonde furrows her brow. “Really? What all did she say?” She asks all too eagerly.

“Oh my god!” Octavia bursts out laughing. “You really _are_ thirsty! I thought you said you didn’t care.”

“I don’t.” Clarke repeats, unconvincingly.

“Yeah. Clearly.”

Clarke flips her off, going to get changed.

“Love you most!” She hears Octavia call after her as she shuts the bathroom door.

She scrubs her face angrily, making sure to get all of the paint off, picking some dried pieces out of her hair. She looks herself in the mirror with a sigh. She can’t let herself get this way. Not again. It’s too dangerous. Her hands grip at the edge of the sink until her knuckles turn white. Breathe. She reminds herself. It echoes in her head a lighter, breathier voice than her own.

She fumbles her way to her room, clumsily stepping through the piles of laundry on the floor, empty paint bottles, and random assortment of brushes. She really needs to clean the place up, she makes a mental note. This gallery opening has really occupied her time and organization.

She throws open the closet door, tossing an array of shirts on the bed, none seeming nice enough to actually wear for the evening events.

She lets out an audibly dramatized groan.

“You okay over there?” She hears Lexa ask from the kitchen.

“Never better.” Clarke feigns, tripping over her skateboard in the process, head colliding with the wall.

_Damn it._

“Clarke?” She hears the scrapping of the barstool and Lexa is soon standing above her.

“You alright?” Lexa inquires.

“Yeah, just couldn’t figure out which shirt to wear.” Clarke tries to play off.

“No need to throw a fit over it.” Lexa laughs. She peers into the girl’s room. She maneuvers around the clutter, picking up a sky-blue collared shirt. “This one.” She determines. “It’ll look great on you.”

“Uh.” Clarke rolls onto her stomach before standing back up. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” The instructor smiles back.

The moment is cut short by a shrill scream from the blonde’s roommate. “Lincoln’s here!” She announces. “Let’s drink, bitches! I don’t have all day!”

“Oh,” Lexa grabs Clarke by the wrist, spinning her towards her. She gives a small tug and Clarke feels just a little bit too close to the girl. “Almost forgot!” Green eyes sparkle. “Your signature accessory.” She grabs one of Clarke’s snapbacks off the hooks by the door, never breaking eye contact. “There. Now you’re ready.” She gives Clark a wink before sauntering off.

By the time they get ready to go to the party, Octavia has had three shots and a glass of wine, while Clarke and Lexa only had 2 shots. Lexa’s face had remained passive as she downed the alcohol like a champ, not even a flinch when the 150 proof when slide down her throat. The only real change had been the pinkish hue to her cheeks.

Her roommate, on the other hand, was definitely feeling the effects of the liquor, clinging her hands around her boyfriend’s strong frame as he steadied her on his arm.

“Is Bell gonna be there?” Clarke asks, making her way to the driver’s seat. They climb into the blonde’s car and Clarke is grateful that she’s been too busy to actually use the thing. Typically it would have at least one old burrito wrapper and some crumpled up receipts.

“Yeah.” Lincoln nods from the rearview mirror holding up her friend in the backseat while Lexa sat in the passenger seat.

“Hopefully he won’t notice how wasted his sister is going to get, if not already.” He grins as Octavia giggles into his chest, taking his shirt between her teeth as she gnaws obnoxiously. Lincoln laughs, swatting her away as he reaches over her lap to buckle her seatbelt. “Anyway, he went straight there while I came to get you guys, so he might be distracted enough by now.”

Clarke gives a nod, knowing exactly who he was referring to. Raven Reyes, another one of their mutual friends and Bellamy had a “totally non-commital-not-together-totally-platonic relationship. At least, that’s what they both insisted upon, despite the fact that they were constantly together and hooked up at almost every party.

She starts the engine and begins to pull out of the parking lot.

“Are you going to put your seatbelt on?” Lexa raises a brow.

“Nah. Not my thing. Wrinkles my shirt.” She shrugs.

Lexa gives her a hardened stare.

“Put your seatbelt on.” She grits her teeth, a fire behind those searing green eyes. Clarke is taken aback and obliges. The moment it clicks into place, the brunette relaxes again, eyes friendly and welcoming.

“Anyway..” She tries not to think about the strange occurrence. “Do I have to be DD tonight?” She asks the boy, clearly aware of her roommate’s state. It was only going to get worse from here.

“I’ll do it.” Lexa offers.

“What? No you’re…” Clarke tries to come up with an excuse. “It’s okay. You should drink.”

“I can handle my liquor.” Lexa assures. “You’d be surprised.” The brunette puffs out her chest.

“That so?” The blonde challenges.

“Lexa will be fine.” Lincoln butts in. “I’d take her word for it if I were you.”

“Lexa’s actually quite the party animal.” Octavia chimes in with a happy hum.

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Clarke quips.

Lexa simply smirks in response, cocking a single brow.

“Alright fine.” Clarke gives. “You can DD on the way back.”

 They coast down the highway with Drake blasting through the speakers. Clarke purposefully cranks up the bass, head bobbing in time with the beat.

“Anya’s place off the next exit, first street on the right.” Lexa instructs, pointing out the green exit sign.

Clarke follows the girl’s directions, turning on her blinker as she pulls off.

“What floor?” Clarke asks when they step through the apartment complex lobby.

“Seventh.” Lexa says.

“Seven flights?!” The blonde’s eyes widen, exasperated. “I’m going to die.” She whines.

“Come on, Clarke.” Octavia gives her a tug, following Lexa’s lead. “It won’t be that bad.” She links her arms through her roommate’s and her boyfriend’s as they follow the yoga instructor up the stairs. Clarke takes a moment to appreciate the girl’s figure.

_Yeah. Maybe it won’t be that bad._

The party is in full swing when they arrive. She immediately recognizes Bellamy making out with Raven on the couch, a few other friends are also in attendance. The party must not have been as exclusive as Clarke had assumed it was. She wasn’t that well acquainted with Octavia’s workout buddies, but it seemed that there were at least a handful of guests that were part of her overlapping friendship circle. She’s surprised she hadn’t met Lexa before all of this. They went out drinking almost every weekend.

“Hey!” A sharp cheek-boned girl approaches them. “Glad you could make it.” She says to Lexa.

“Hey, Anya.” Lexa says back.

“Who’s this?” The taller girl quirks her brow at Clarke.

“This is Clarke. She’s Octavia’s roommate.” Lexa introduces.

“Hmm.” Anya gives her a once over. “Yeah. I’ve heard stories about you from Lincoln.” She says somewhat coldly. “Don’t fuck anything up.” She gives a quick warning. “And you,” She points a finger at the brunette. “Be _careful_.”

“I will.” Lexa nods, brushing her finger from where it’s pointing too close to her nose.

“I’m going to get a drink.” Lexa says to Clarke when the blonde departs. “Want one?”

“Shouldn’t you be drinking water?” Clarke asks, somewhat concerned.

“You just worry about yourself.” Lexa gives her arm a pat. “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“Oh really?” Clarke challenges.

“Be my partner.” The brunette says, straight faced. Clarke almost chokes on her own spit.

“What?”

“One for one, all night?” Lexa clarifies, referring to the number of drinks.

“Deal.” Clarke holds out a hand.

_This was going to be a dangerous game._

Clarke follows the yoga instructor into the kitchen, both being handed a beer immediately upon arrival.

“Clarke!” She hears a familiar voice. She looks across the room to see a redhead waving her over.

“Come with?” She asks and Lexa nods, following suit.

“Harper refuses to be on my team for beer pong.” Monroe gestures to the gorgeous blonde standing across the beer pong table. “I think you should help me teach her a lesson.” She grins deviously.

Harper shakes her head. “What your name?” She turns to the brunette.

“Lexa.”

“Alright, Lexa. You’re on my team.” She pulls the girl over by the wrist, and Clarke feels her blood boil, despite knowing that she and Monroe had been together for over two years.

“You’re going down, Griffin.” Harper taunts.

“This early in the night?” Clarke smirks. “That’s rather forward of you.” She mocks, knowing exactly what boundaries she’s allowed to overstep. Monroe turns to her, giving her a high five and Clarke adjusts her snapback while harper flips them both off.

“You’re sleeping on the couch when we get back.” The opposing blonde declares and the red head’s face falls.

“Aww, baby! Come on!” Monroe pouts. “It was Clarke’s fault. She’s the one who said it.”

“Yeah, well, Clarke’s an ass.” Harper laughs. “Beloved ass, but still an ass.”

“That’s fair. That’s fair.” Clarke nods, acceptingly. “Sorry, Zee.”

The redhead huffs.

“Fine.” She proposes. “What we win? Can I sleep in bed with you?”

Her girlfriend bites her lip, deliberating. “Fine.” She finally caves.

“Yes!” Monroe gives a cheer, pumping her fist in the air.

“What about me” Clarke teases. “What’s my prize? Do I get to join you?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“If you win…” Harper taps a finger on her chin.

“If you win,” Lexa cuts in. “I’ll take a body shot off you.” She presents.

“That sounds more like a reward for you than it does for me. Drink for drink.” Clarke reminds, a smug grin plastered to her face.

“Never said I wouldn’t return the favor.” Lexa contests.

“Oh! It’s so on!” Clarke removes her snapback, slicking back her hair before replacing the cap over her tousled waves.

In the end Lexa sinks it, beating her out by three whole cups.

“Body shots, as promised.” The brunette smirks, taking Clarke by the hand into the kitchen. She rifles through cabinets until she finds what she’s looking for. She turns with a confident smile, shaking the bottle at Clarke.

“Shall we?” She grabs a few pre-sliced limes from the fridge, already knowing where they were. It’s as if she had planned this.

As though there was a flashing sign, a hoard of people enters the kitchen just as Lexa climbs to sit on the island, handing Clarke the salt and shot glass.

“TEQUILA SHOTS!!!” The crowd hoots.

“How did they know?” Clarke asks the brunette suspiciously.

“I may have texted some people while you were busy miss aiming at beer pong.” Lexa shrugs.

“You knew I was going to lose?” The blonde’s jaw drops in surprise.

“I had a hunch.” The brunette’s lips quirk up in amusement.

“Ohh. You…” Clarke’s words get cut off when Lexa shrugs off her jacket, pulls her shirt over her head revealing a black lacey bra.

“Come on, Clarke.” The brunette teases. “Crowd’s waiting.”

“Where should I…” She holds the salt baffled.

“Where ever you want it.” Lexa husks, a devilish grin on her face. She places a lime in her mouth and lays back.

Clarke places the trail along the girl’s collarbone, preparing herself. She had a thing for nice collarbones, probably from the years of drawing human anatomy for her art classes. And Lexa’s were absolutely divine.

The brunette raises her brow, as if to ask what’s taking so long. So Clarke swoops in, tongue gliding over the girl’s skin. It’s somewhat sweet, despite the sheer amount of salt, and Clarke’s senses are filled with the smell of Lexa’s dizzying perfume.

She quickly downs the shot, bending to take the lime from Lexa’s mouth, teeth scraping against the girl’s plump lips. Clarke feels herself burning.

The crowd cheers and she even hears a few cat calls and a “Get it, Griffin!”

Lexa beams, taking the shot glass from her hand.

“I believe I owe you something.” She insinuates, pouring another.

“Let’s go, _Griffin.”_ She teases, following the cues of the crowd.

Clarke slowly unfastens the top few buttons of her shirt, allowing it to slip off. Lexa grabs her snapback off her head, placing it atop her own brown curls, rim facing backwards. With the hat gone, Clarke is able to fully lie back.

“Open.” Lexa instructs, placing a lime into the blonde’s mouth.

There’s a glimmer in the girl’s green eyes and Clarke feels her fingers trace down her stomach, unbuttoning her shirt even further until she’s completely exposed. She then lines a trail of salt along her stomach and between the valley of her breasts.

_Holy. Shit._

The brunette gives her a wink before leaning to lay her tongue flat against Clarke’s skin, taking her delicious time as she goes, eyes never leaving Clarke’s until the very last second when she throws her head back, swallowing the tequila as if it was her job. She latches her lips to the lime and Clarke has to hold back a moan as the girl bites down, juice trailing into her own mouth as well.

She pulls away too quickly for Clarke’s liking with a self-confident smile.

“Thanks.” Lexa takes a playful bow. “I’ll be here all night.” She says, slipping her tank top back over her head, tugging on her jacket.

Dazed, Clarke sits up to find multiple eyes glued to the two of them and a probably a few boners. From the corner, she sees Octavia and Lincoln watching the scene pan out and a scowling Anya. She hastily buttons her shirt as well, replacing her sunglasses in the collar before hopping off the counter towards her roommate.

“I need her number. _Now_.” Clarke demands, trying to reach for the brunette’s phone but Octavia just laughs, running away. 

When the blonde turns, she sees that Lexa has disappeared and Bellamy lying on the counter with salt on his abs, Raven staring hungrily at him.

By the middle of the night, both girls are feeling the alcohol, Clarke especially. She’s leaning against the kitchen counter with Jasper and Monty when Lexa approaches, going in for another cup of Monty’s moonshine.

She pours one for herself, passing the other to Clarke, who holds back a groan. “Bottoms up.”

“Hello.” Jasper slides into their conversation. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” He places an arm on the wall beside the brunette’s head, leaning into her personal space.

“Lexa.” The yoga instructor replies politely, despite the boy’s beer breath in her face.

“Well, Lexa.” Jasper slurs. “I just wanted to say that you are absolutely stunning and really hot.” He hiccups. “Right, Clarke?” He turns to the blonde, eyes drooping.

“Of course.” She laughs at her inebriated friend.

“Miss Lexa,” Jasper continues. “Would you do be the honor of bestowing a kisss?” He rambles.

Luckily, Monty finishes mixing another cooler of his signature concoction, pulling his friend away with an apology to the brunette. Lexa laughs, blowing a kiss as he departs, shaking her head when they’re out of sight.

“What?” Clarke smirks. “Not into smart, intoxicated boys?” She teases.

“Not into boys in general.” Lexa shrugs as if she didn’t just come out ot a complete stranger.

“Oh.” Clarke pauses, taken aback. “Wow.”

“Is that a problem?” The brunette straightens, eyes narrowing.

“No!” The blonde holds up her hands in defense. “I just didn’t really peg you for…”

“Appearances can be deceiving.” Lexa grins.

“Yeah.” Clarke nods. “I think I’m starting to realize that.”

Suddenly the bass of the music echoes through the apartment, loud thudding vibrating in Clarke’s chest.

“Can you dance?” The blonde asks holding out a hand.

Lexa smirks. “I think I can manage.” She takes it with a squeeze, leading them to the dance floor.

She can _definitely_ manage. Clarke concludes. They made it out to where the DJ is dropping a steamy track that could only be danced to in the most sensual of ways.

Lexa pulls Clarke to the middle of the dance floor, turning to back her rear into Clarke’s front, hip swaying in time to the beat and Clarke completely loses herself, transfixed on the brunette. Her throat goes dry and she has to take several gulps of her drink, memorized by the way Lexa is moving and controlling her body, driving a burning heat into the depths of Clarke’s stomach. Lexa tilts her had to the side so that she can see Clarke from over her shoulder, neck exposed. She leans further, dipping forward before pushing her ass out as she rises, grazing against the crotch of Clarke’s shorts and Clarke forgets how to breathe.

Luckily, or rather, unluckily, Octavia interrupts them with a flustered Lincoln hot on her heels.

“Lexa!” She throws her arms around the yoga instructor. “I’m so glad you finally came out with us!” She squeezes the girl tightly, burying her face in the brunette’s locks.

“This Is so fun Aren’t you having fun, Clarke?” Octavia turns to her. Clarke just throws her head back, chest bursting with a laugh as she helps Lincoln pry her grip from around Lexa’s neck.

“Clarke is the best, isn’t she, Lexa?” The small brunette turns her attention to the yoga teacher.

“Oh, most definitely.” Lexa gives her an exaggerated nod.

“I’m sensing sarcasm.” The blonde accuses.

“She won’t know the difference.” Lexa brushes off with a shrug.

“What difference?” Octavia pipes up. “Difference between what?” She asks.

“Told you.” Lexa tilts her head with a knowing glance before redirecting her attention to Octavia. “Say, O, how about we get you something to eat, yeah?”

“Oh my god!” The brunette squeals. “YES!” She jumps.

“You okay?” Lexa asks, withdrawing the keys from her pocket that Clarke had given to her earlier. “I can come back for you after if you still want…”

“Nah.” Clarke cuts off. “It’s fine.” She shakes her head. “Are _you_ okay to drive?” She asks.

“Sober as a judge.” Lexa nods.

“Alright. Let’s get some food in this one.” Clarke agrees while Lincoln hoists his girlfriend up, carrying her out of the apartment bridal style, the cool air around them filled with Octavia’s giggles as they make their way back to the car.

They pull into a small diner, getting Octavia a plateful of pancakes, bacon, and an omelette. Clarke gets a burger while Lincoln goes for chicken nuggets and some fries. Lexa simply sits with water in front of her, watching them intently.

“How aren’t you drunk?” Clarke asks, hand hovering over her mouth as she speaks with her cheeks stuffed.

“I’m a recovering alcoholic.” Lexa shrugs. “Tonight was nothing. I’ve had much more in one night.”

“What?!” Clarke gags on her burger, coughing violently before gulping down her soda.

“Kidding.” The brunette says, but her face is still serious. “Don’t forget to breathe.” She deflects, teasingly.

“Lexa made a funny!” Octavia claps giddily.

“Thanks, I try.” She gives a small smile but Clarke senses that something’s off about the girl sitting next to her.

Their conversation is interjected by the sound of a phone ringing. Lincoln shifts his weight, keeping one hand on his girlfriend, propping her up in the booth, before withdrawing his cellphone from his pocket.

He frowns at the caller ID.

“Bellamy.” He grumbles. “Hello?” He asks, holding the device to his ear.

“Hi, Belly-boo!” Octavia shouts at the small electronic. “I love you!” She calls.

“It’s not Bellamy.” He quiets. “It’s Raven.” He hushes the brunette with a press of a finger to her lips.

“Sorry, what?” Lincoln asks, unable to hear over his girlfriend’s yelling. “Shit. Oh. Okay. Hold on. I’ll be right there.” He frowns as he hangs up.

“Everything alright?”

“My genius of a roommate got himself stuck in a tree.” He says flatly.

“How did that happen?” Clarke laughs.

“His genius of a girlfriend, probably.” He says gruffly.  “I’m sorry, but do you think you can handle taking O home tonight?” He asks the pair.

“Sure. No problem.” Lexa assures. “Come on, Octavia.” She starts cutting the girl’s pancakes for her. “Time to eat.”

They scarf down their food, Lincoln throwing a wad of dollars on the table before they leave. When they return to the house, he places a gentle kiss on his girlfriend’s forehead and she mumbles incoherently in the backseat.

“Thanks again, Clarke.” He offers gratefully. “I’ll see you later, Lexa.”

The brunette gives a nod, lowering the window. “Don’t let him drive.” Lexa calls out into the night as he dashes off toward the house.

“I promise!” He yells back over his shoulder.

When he’s out of sight, the brunette throws the car in reverse, steering them back to the blonde’s apartment.

It takes a bit of effort before they finally get the girl upstairs, her stubborn, drunken self, refusing to take the elevator. Clarke and Lexa both take one arm, supporting the girl’s weight, dragging her up the incline with great struggle.

After Clarke finally tucks the girl into bed, slipping off her shoes and wiping off as much make up as she can while Octavia’s arms lazily bat her away, she flops onto the couch. Lexa joins her a moment later, sitting in a more controlled manner.

“Thanks for helping.” Clarke sighs. “I’m sorry if…”

“Don’t worry.” Lexa cuts off. “I had a great time.” She assures.

“You’re probably tired. Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to crash here instead?” Clarke offers.

“No.” Lexa shakes her head. “I’m fine. I promise.” She stands and Clarke walks her to the door. She steps over the threshold, pausing for a moment. “Tonight was fun.” She turns to, green eyes meeting Clarke’s. “I’m glad I met you.” She smiles, leaning to place a soft kiss on Clarke’s cheek.

The blonde’s feels her ears burn as they pull apart. “By the way,” Lexa hovers slightly, lips ghosting over the shell of Clarke’s ear. “Check your pocket.” She teases, turning on her heels. Before Clarke can process what happened, the girl is already descending the stairwell.

Clarke looks down, hands digging through the pockets of her shorts until she feels a foreign material. She pulls it out and looks down at the numbers scrawled across the paper. A shit-eating grin splitting across her face.


	3. Broken and Battered Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! I wrote a Lexark fic called "Damn Straight" and I'd really love it if you could give me feedback on it! And if you haven't already, you should check out my non-AU fic, "Entwined." ;)

When she finally arrives back at her apartment, the brunette is exhausted. She clicks the door shut behind her, leaning against the wooden surface. It was well past two in the morning. She had to be up in four hours to teach her Saturday morning yoga class. The brunette almost considers cancelling the session, but decides it would be a little too last minute to do so.

She sighs, shrugging off her jacket and draping it on the chair before pulling her tank over her head. There’s a small thud that follows and she looks down to find a snapback on the floor, Clarke’s snapback. She had forgotten that she still had it. To be honest, she had been a little distracted. Clarke was beautiful, anybody could see that. But she was also a bit arrogant and cocky. Still, Lexa didn’t mind looking at her. That wouldn’t do any harm, right? Those gorgeous blue eyes and golden tresses were very attractive after all, a complete contrast from…. She shakes her head, clearing her mind of the memories. _Not tonight_. She places it on the kitchen table as a reminder to eventually return it to the blonde.

She finishes preparing for bed, stepping through the routine automatically; wash face, brush hair, brush teeth, take pill, lie down, count. When she gets to 73, sleep finally takes her.

The morning fast approaches and she rolls onto her back, stretching her arms over her head and rotating her wrist as she does, her left cracking once before she lets them fall back onto the bed. After a quick shower and a slice of toast, she grabs a banana and water bottle, packing them away into her bag. She pauses at the counter, allowing herself a moment amongst the rush, taking a deep breath of into the vase of flowers sitting on the counter before heading out the door.

To no surprise, Octavia and Lincoln and missing in class, and Clarke most definitely is not in attendance either. She can’t say she hadn’t wished though, that maybe, by some miracle, the blonde had changed her mind. She sighs, rolling out her mat.

“Hello class.” She greets, pushing herself to smile. “I hope you had a good week. Let’s get started with a breathing exercise, shall we?”

The class passes by quickly, which the brunette is grateful for. And when she returns to her apartment, she finds that the door has been unlocked already. Pushing it open, she finds her sister waiting at the kitchen table, legs crossed at the knee and a coffee, which is most likely black, in hand.

“How’d you get in here?” She asks the blonde.

“I still have my key.” Anya shrugs.

“I thought I told you that you could get rid of it.” She states, toeing off her sneakers and places her bag by the foot of the table.

“I’m glad I didn’t.” The older woman narrows her eyes. It makes her cheekbones appear even sharper, more dangerous. “What the fuck happened last night?” She interrogates.

“You mean, you don’t remember?” Lexa tries to joke with a shrug. “Wow, An, I didn’t think you got _that_ drunk.”

Her sister’s face remains as straight as ever.

“You know what I’m talking about.” Anya cuts dryly. “ _The blonde._ ”

“You’re blonde.” Lexa shrugs. She doesn’t have time for this, nor does she have the energy.

“Not me.” Her sister says through gritted teeth.

“Harper.” She says, automatically deflecting.

“Alexandria.” Anya tilts her chin up sternly.

“Fine.” The brunette sighs under the scrutinizing gaze. “Clarke.”

“She stayed last night?” the older woman eyes the snapback on the table.

“No.” Lexa assures. She knew that her sister was being her same, overly-protective self. She couldn’t really be upset. She hadn’t exactly given her a reason to believe that she was to be fully trust to be alone again. But she was trying, at least.

“But you left with her?” Anya prompts.

“I did.” She nods, feeling guilty.

“And you drove?” Her sister’s voice raises. Lexa bows her head.

“Yes.” She digs her toe into the floor, preparing for the woman’s wraith.

“God, Lexa!” _There it is._ “Seriously?!”

“Well, she drove us to yours, so I said I’d drive us back.” She tries to defend.

“And was she drinking too?” Anya growls.

“We only had two shots before we went to your place.” She confesses.

“That’s _dangerous,_ Lexa!” She slams the cup down onto the table. It sloshes over the ceramic edge, splattering onto the surface of the table and her hand.

“An,” She can see her sister’s hand turning red from the scalding temperature, but she simply holds up a hand, halting her.

“We left right away. It’s only a fifteen minute drive to yours, twenty tops.” Lexa tries to assuage.

“In Friday night, DC traffic.” The blonde adds.

“It takes thirty minutes for alcohol to metabolize and…”

“Not the point.” Anya cuts off.

“I know.” She sighs. “but I’ve done worse.” She says quietly.

Her sister softens, coming to her side. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

“It’s okay.” Lexa finally looks up. “See, I’m okay. My tolerance is still just as high as it used to be.’ She tries to joke.

“Lexa.” Her sister gives her a pointed look.

“Sorry. It’s… I wasn’t thinking.” She apologizes, taking her sister’s hand.

“Look,” The older woman pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes shutting before she speaks again. “I’m glad you had a good time. I’m happy to see you finally breaking out of your shell again. After C…“ She hesitates. “After it happened, I was so worried about you, Lexa. And when I found out that I could have lost you, I just…”

“I know.” Lexa gives her hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Anya.”

“Please.” Her sister pleads. “Be careful. I want you to be able to move on, but does it have to be her?” She asks. “I just don’t trust her. You deserve better than that.”

“I don’t really deserve anything.”

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re lucky. You’re still alive.”

At what cost? Lexa feels her chest constrict. It’s not fair.

“Shit.”

She feels her breath speeding up, hyperventilating.

“Lex?” Anya’s eyes widen.

She feels body collapsing in on itself. Her ears start ringing and she hears sirens, red and white lights flashing behind her eyelids and she clutches as her chest.

_The sound squealing of tires. The crunch of metal. A blood-curling scream. Her arm aches. Costia’s blood is splattered across the dashboard._

“Lexa!” Her sister realizes the signs immediately. “Hey, hey.” Anya coaxes.

_She looks over at her girlfriend, head hanging limp, eyes closed._

_“Cos?” She asks. No response._

_“Costia!” She cries, alarmed. She quickly unbuckles her seatbelt, leaning over the center console to examine the girl’s injuries._

“Calm. Breathe. Come on, count with me.” She urges.

_“No.” She feels her hand trembling. “Please, don’t do this.” She prays to whatever higher being there is. “Take me instead.” She pleads._

“One, two, in, out.” She hears her sister’s voice in the distance.

_“Baby, no!” She feels for a pulse but is met with nothing but rapidly cooling skin._

 One two three, in out.” Anya says again.

_There are arms around her, pulling her out, away from her girlfriend’s lifeless body, which she clings on to desperate not to let go._

_“Ma’am, we have to get you into the ambulance. Your friend needs immediate care.”_

_“She’s not my friend.” Is all she manages to say._

_“_ One, two, three, four, in, out.” They get to thirteen before her vision refocuses.

 _Gone_ .

She lets out a whimper, falling into the older woman’s chest.

“Shh.” Anya brushes her hair. “Okay?” She asks solemnly.

“Yeah.” She gives weak nod.

“Do you want me to stay here for a few days?”

“No.” She shakes her head in refusal. “I’m fine. I don’t know what happened. I was doing so well.”

Anya hmms sadly. “Let me at least take you to lunch?” She requests.

Lexa simply stands to slip her shoes back on, not bothering to put up a fight.

Across town, in the blonde and her roommate’s apartment finally starts to stir.

Clarke releases a groggy yawn. Her throat feels dry, lips chapped. She starts to extract herself from the sheets, but soon realizes that there’s a body pressed against hers, one arm draped over her. She gives a squeeze to the brunette’s ass swats it away in a half-conscious state.

“Hey, O.” She chuckles, turning on her side to face the girl.

The brunette buries her face into pillow. “Your breath stinks.” Octavia mumbles.

“So does yours.” Clarke counters with a grin.

“Why are you in my bed?” The brunette huffs, using her leg to nudge the blonde out of her personal space. She shifts to sit up all too quickly, clutching her head. “Ugh!” Her roommate groans.

“You know you’re actually in _my_ bed, right?” The blonde notes.

The brunette rubs her eyes, surveying her surroundings. “Shit.” She grumbles, slipping out of the bed, making her way to the bathroom.

“You’ve always been a drunk cuddler.” Clarke calls out after her

“You’re so loud!” Octavia moans, covering her ears. “My head hurts.” She groans.

“You shouldn’t have drank so much.” Clarke teases, following her roommate’s head. Octavia hands her the tube of toothpaste and she gives it a squirt, allowing the liquid to coat her brush before shoving it into her mouth.

“Hey,” Octavia removes her toothbrush to speak. “I had to do something to drown out the sexual tension between you and Lexa.”

Clarke points her own foamy brush in the brunette’s direction. “There was no sexual tension.” She returns the brush to her mouth, scrubbing her teeth a little harder.

Octavia nudges her in the hip and Clarke sidesteps so that she can spit the remaining cleaner into the sink.

“You sure?” The brunette leans back up. “Cause I’m pretty sure I saw you eye-fucking her on multiple occasions last night.” She accuses.

The blonde nudges the smaller girl with her elbow and repeats her same action, turning the nozzle to let the bubbles of toothpaste drain.

“I’ll have you know,” She places her toothbrush back into the holder alongside her roommate’s. “ _She_ was the one who gave _me_ her number” She puffs out her chest confidently.

Octavia’s eyes narrow. “Did she now?”

“She did.” She smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. The brunette rolls her eyes exiting the bathroom. Clarke ruffles her hair in the mirror, winking at her own reflection.

“Still got it, Griffin.” She points a finger at the blonde looking back at her before making her way down the hall, into the kitchen.

As she rounds the corner, she finds her roommate nursing her headache with a glass of water and Advil in her hands. Two boxes of cereal sit in front of her, as well as a  cup of instant noodles.

“Pick.” Octavia says.

“Ramen.” Clarke responds, taking a seat. “Definitely.”

The brunette slides the foam container across the table and Clarke chuckles at the lethargy of her roommate. She takes pulls back the lid and breaks off a piece of the uncooked noodles, popping it into her mouth.

“Come on, Clarke.” The brunette scolds. “Use water.”

The blonde rolls her eyes with a grin, taking the cup and placing it under the hot water dispenser. “Fine.” She taps the counter lightly as she waits for the noodles to cook.

She hears the brunette struggling as she opens the cereal box, plastic crackling and irritating her headache, each multigrain Cheerio clinking against the ceramic bowl.

“Ugh!” Octavia huffs and Clarke snickers at her friend’s theatrics, returning with her now fully cooked noodles. Her roommate pours some milk into the bowl, finally accomplishing her goal. She digs a spoon in, chewing and swallowing before she asks.

“So, are you going to call her then?” She inquires.

“Who?” The blonde plays dumb.

“You know who.” Octavia shoots back.

“Nah.” Clarke shakes her head, not wanting to give her roommate the satisfaction. “Not unless it’s for a booty call.” She pretends to grope at an imaginary figure.

Octavia narrows her eyes.

“What?” The blonde shrugs. “I was kidding.”

“Don’t make this awkward.” The brunette warns.

“Why would it be awkward?” The blonde cocks a brow.

“Because you can be an ass sometimes.” Octavia says bluntly. “And Lexa’s my friend. If you screw around with her, _you_ may be able to avoid her, but _I_ won’t.” She reasons. “We do yoga together and her sister and Lincoln are really close.”

“Lexa’s a big girl.” Clarke defends. “She can make her own decisions.” The blonde brushes off.

“I’m serious, Clarke.” The brunette says sternly. “Lexa’s different.”

“She’s just another girl.” She inhales another mouthful of ramen.

“Clarke.” Octavia says. “I mean it. Don’t.”

“Why are you freaking about this? I wasn’t going to call her anyway. Relax.”

“What?” The brunette looks confused. “Why not?”

“Too easy.” Clarke scarfs down the last bit of noodles.

The brunette takes her spoon and flings a soggy piece of cereal at her. “You’re such an ass! I’m trying to level with you.”

The blonde puts down the empty container, leaning back in her chair. “So then level with me, I’m all ears.”

 “Lexa’s different, okay? When we first met, she was really quiet. Not shy, just… “ she pauses, searching for the right words. “Guarded.” She finally settles on. “She only talked to Anya.”

“So she had a stick up her ass?”

“No!” The brunette exclaims. “She just seemed, well, gosh, I don’t know… broken, I guess? I just don’t think you should play around with her. If you’re going ot do this, you can’t make it a one night stand. You haven’t toy with her. She’s not that type of girl.”

“God,” Clarke smirks. “You’re suffocating.”

It doesn’t evoke the response she expects, and she decides it must be because of the hangover.

“Damn it, Clarke. It’s time to grow up!” The brunette drops her spoon into the bowl and it clangs against the surface. “You can’t just _use_ her. She’s not another girl you can just fuck and chuck?” She says angrily. “I get that Finn hurt you, I do. But you treating her like that doesn’t make you any better.”

“You calling me a _fuckboy?”_ Clarke glares daggers into the brunette.

“No!” Octavia groans. “I’m just saying that Lexa doesn’t deserve to be…”

“And I did?” Clarke cuts off.

“No, Clarke.” Octavia sighs. “Listen, I Just want…”

“Save it.” The blonde says bitingly. “I’m going out.” She huffs, standing abruptly, stomping to her room. She slips on a pair of knee socks, grabbing her phone and sunglasses.

“Clarke…” Octavia tries to stop her when she passes through the kitchen to the front door.

“No.” The blonde says. “Not now.” She grunts, slamming the door behind her, not bothering to take into consideration how the loud bang would have irritated the brunette’s hangover.

_She remembers it. She had gone to his apartment to surprise him, letting herself in. He wasn’t supposed to be back for another day, but Clarke had wanted to do something special for her boyfriend. She walked in to find clothes strewn on the floor, a pair of panties that were definitely not hers. Then she heard a grunt and an “Oh Finn, fuck! Right there.” Two voices chorus into their orgasm. She had never run faster than in that moment in her entire life._

_The next day, Finn texted her saying that he was back from his trip. When she confronted him about what she had seen, or rather, heard, she had brushed it off with a shrug. ‘It’s not like we were exclusive or anything’ he had shrugged, when just a few days ago, he had promised her forever. ‘I just said that to get you to sleep with me. You were so pissy that week.’ He had reasoned. It was the anniversary of her father’s death. He was the first person to make her smile on that day because, at the time, she had genuinely felt happy._

_It was then that she vowed never to let herself fall in love again, never to get attached to anyone, especially anyone that could hurt her. If she remained detached enough, she could have the upper hand and not risk getting hurt._

_The first few months were hard, but a year later, Clarke had transformed herself into a new person. Cool, smooth, and completely aloof. Every once in a while, a little piece of the old her would come out, mostly with Octavia or Bellamy, but she would shove it back down, hidden deep in the shadows of the person she was now._

She finds herself wandering until she comes to the local park, settling on the swing set. She hadn’t been there in quite some time, but took comfort in the fact that the place hadn’t really changed since she had last visited.

“Clarke?” A redheaded boy approaches her, a basketball under his arm.

She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffing.

“Oh, hey Aden.” She clears her throat. “What’s up?” She says as smoothly as she can.

“I haven’t seen you in a long time.” He notes.

“I’ve been a little busy.” Clarke tries to shrug it off.

“Do you want to play?” he holds out the ball, looking over his shoulder. She recognizes a few faces of the younger group. She had come to the park in the past with Finn, who was the basketball coach for the local junior team. After he moved, she still couldn’t bring herself to come back, the ghosts of her past still lingering.

“Nah.” She shakes her head. “I can’t today.”

“Oh.” He looks down and a pang of guilt hitting her chest when she catches sight of the boy’s dejected expression. “Soon though?”

“Sure, kiddo.” She feigns a smile. “I’ll try.”

 _Another broken promise_. She files it away with all the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now you know why Lexa was so adamant about Clarke putting on her seatbelt, and why she was easily able to outdrink our little party girl.


	4. The Trip to the Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is stressed, Anya is protective, Octavia is amused, and Lexa is just along for the ride.

After slipping on their coats, the two siblings make the way down the street, opting to walk rather than drive. It was a touchy subject. It always had been.

Anya was right. What she did was stupid. Lexa couldn’t believe she had let herself completely lose all sense of judgment just because of a pretty girl. She hadn’t done something so reckless in almost a year; when it first started, and she drank to numb all the pain.

She wanted to be in control again, not like she had been after Costia had died. After she had that horrifying image of her girlfriend’s body engrained in her brain and the only way to wash it away was with alcohol.

She needed to be the one driving. At least, that way, if they did get hurt, she could say it was her fault. It was flawed reasoning, but she was so used to hurting, so used to clouded judgment that it was all she could really resort to.

Since then, she had found a new way to calm her anger with the unjust world. And she _thought_ it was working. Her nails dug into the palms, despite their short length, jaw clenched as they walked to the small brunch spot.

The café was busy and bustling with sounds of grinders and dispensers, a tinge of coffee permanently wafting in the air. They sat at the barstool table by the windows, overlooking the streets. Green eyes followed the city’s passerbyers, every person walking by, consumed in their own world. They were completely unaware of how each life could overlap, all of this would be accessible knowledge to them should have just look up from their _damn_ phone. It could have changed an entire lifetime. It could have rewritten a love story, instead of ending one.

 “Hey,” Her sister senses her. “Don’t beat yourself up, okay?” Her sister says gently, placing a hand over hers to halt her from tearing at the napkin she had subconsciously began to destroy.

The waiter interrupts them for a moment to place two glasses of water in front of the pair, gather their orders then scurries off.

“It’s in the past. It’s over. Like you said, you’re okay. Just…” her voice cracks slightly, undetectable to most, but Lexa still heard it. “Don’t do it again.”  The older woman meets her gaze and she hears the silent words. _You’re all I have left._

Lexa nods once acknowledging her understanding.

“I want you alive.” Anya states bluntly, taking a drink of her water.

“I am alive.” Lexa assures.

“You are, but you’re not _living_ , not all the time anyway.” The blonde objects. “But I actually saw the old you, happier Lexa last night. A Lexa that drank to have a good time and not the Lexa that drank to shut herself out from the world.”

She nods in agreement.

“I’ve missed that Lexa.” her sister confesses.

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes genuinely.

“Me too.” Anya returns.

The moment is broken when the waiter returns with their food, unaware of the somber atmosphere hanging over the two.

“Hey,” her sister says, changing the subject now that their meals had arrived. “Roan is coming home from his business trip in Iceland this week. He wants to go hiking with Lincoln and his girlfriend.” Anya says.

“Octavia.” Lexa nods. “She has a name, you know. We’ve been hanging out for months.”

“Yeah, well…” Anya shrugs dismissively and Lexa shakes her head with a smirk. Anya was never one to warm up easily to others, especially those who were close to her own friends and family. It was just part of her nature, having to grow up and be the mature adult at a young age left the blonde very protective of those near and dear to her heart, which would, at times, result in a very terrifying and overbearing Anya. Luckily, that had lightened up in the last few years after she had met an older man, Roan, who was able to treat her the way she needed to be and deserved to be.

“I can tolerate her now, I guess.” Anya says nonchalantly, taking another bite of her food. “She’s alright but I still…”

“You can stand her, but only for so long?” Lexa fills in for her with a chuckle. With Anya, that was basically as good as it gets. “You cold-hearted bitch.” She teases and her sister steals a bite of food from the brunette’s plate.

“I’m highly selective.” The older woman defends, tilting her nose into the air.

Lexa rolls her eyes.

“Nah, but she’s still better than his other ex. What was her name? Clearly she didn’t make much of a lasting impression on me.” Her sister says snidely. Lincoln was Anya’s best friend and they had grown up together. When Octavia first come around, Anya was extremely wary of the girl, especially after his messy break up with

“Luna.” Lexa fills in for her. “Agreed. She acted like she was so good and pure, t she was so arrogant and fake.”

“At least Octavia lays it all out there.”

“She’s blunt like you.” She tilts her lips up with a smirk and Anya releases a puff of air from her nose, the closest thing to a laugh that she ever really let out anymore. Lexa misses it.

Her sister hadn’t laughed since their parents passed. Sure they left them plenty to sustain themselves and they weren’t stressed about living comfortably, but the two were all that was left of their small family. Anya silently was afraid of Lexa getting attached to someone and leaving her back in DC, yet she was even more scared of Lexa getting attached to someone and having them leave her sister, leaving Anya to pick up the pieces. There were only so many times she could pick up shattered glass before she got cut herself. That, or pull on some gloves. But Anya couldn’t shut her baby sister out. She was a pain, sure. Overly-zealous at times and super lame, but she was still her sister. Her only sister, and only family, really.

“Alright.” She nods.

“Alright what?” Her sister quirks a brow, signing the check and placing a few bills in the holder for their server to return.

“I’ll go on hiking with you. When?” Lexa asks, standing to stretch her legs out from under the table.

“Saturday, after you’re done teaching your class. We can all meet at the studio?” Her sister suggests.

“Works for me.” She agrees, holding the door open for her sister to exit.

“Hey.” Her sister says, a faint smile upon her lips as they depart the restaurant. “You’ll be okay.”

“ _We’ll_ be okay.”  Lexa takes her hand in her own.  
\---  
The blonde eventually returns to the apartment, temper settled after her fuse had blown. Her light eyes were burning from lack of sleep and the sensitivity to the sun.

“Hey.” She says lazily, kicking off her shoes and tossing her eyes onto the counter. Lincoln and Octavia are cuddling on the couch, whispering intimately to each other.

Her roommate sits up when she notices her return. “Clarke, I want to…”

She holds up her hand. “Already forgiven, babe.” She smiles, holding up a bag. “I brought Chinese. Enough for Lincoln too if he wants.” She gives a head nod to her roommate’s boyfriend.

“Thanks,” He shakes his hand, unraveling himself from where he was curled up by the brunette. “I actually have to head out to meet up with Anya and should probably go back to check on this one’s brother.” He points his thumb at Octavia.

“Send him my love.” Octavia laughs.

“And mine.” Clarke adds with a wiggle of her brow.

“I will.” He laughs, and with that, exits the apartment.

Once they’re alone, the blonde moves to the couch, settling opposite her roommate and placing the bags of food on the coffee table in front of them.

“I really am sorry.” Octavia says again.

“Don’t worry about it.” Clarke brushes off. “You know I don’t hold grudges unless you _really_ fuck up.” She jokes.

“But you shouldn’t hold on to those things either.” The brunette points out, leaning forward to take out the containers of Chinese food. She pops open a tab, examining the contents before handing it over to the blonde. “It’s not healthy. Aren’t you tired?”

_She was._

“No.” she lied.

The brunette sighs, taking the next container with more satisfaction as she begins to eat.

“But I bet you are!” The blonde deflects. “How many hungover rounds did you and Lincoln do while I was out?”

“You’re unbelievable.” The brunette shakes her head, taking another bite of her lo mein. As ridiculous as the response was, she knows not to push it. When Clarke changes the subject like that, she’s putting up walls. And Octavia may not know how to knock all of Clarke’s down, but she definitely knew how to get around them.

“How’s the gallery prep going?” She asks instead.

“I want to kill myself.” She deadpans.

“No you don’t.” The brunette snorts.

“Okay I don’t.” Clarke admits. “But I’m so stressed.” She groans, rubbing a hand over her face. She gets orange sauce on her cheek and her roommate simply chuckles, taking a napkin and wiping the excess flavoring away.

“Can’t take me anywhere.” The blonde says cheekily, poking fun at herself.

“Ehh.” Octavia shrugs. “Some places. As long as they’re already dirty places.”

“Dirty, you say?” She insinuates with an obnoxious raise of a brow.

“Yeah.” Octavia baits. “Hiking. Want to come?”

“Yeah! Absolutely!” Clarke laughs sarcastically. “Not. That would require me to actually have _time_ to do that, and also, the motivation to do so as well.” She leans back against the armrest of the couch.

“You’ve got to release that energy somehow.” Octavia points out.

“Oh,” The blonde smirks. “I know how to release energy.” She winks playfully.

“Clarke.” The brunette’s tone turns serious.

“Relax.” She breaks out into a grin. “I’m not going for _her_. Lexa Sexa is off limits. I got your message loud and clear.” She says.

“Wow…” Her roommate drags out. “You’re a terrible poet and don’t even know it.”

“Shut up.” The blonde nudges her with her foot.

“Alright. Alright.” The brunette squirms away. “Forget about it for tonight. Let’s just have a girl’s night. We haven’t had one in forever.” She notes. “Just you and I. No Lincoln and no F…”

“Fuckboys.” Clarke finishes for her. “Or fuckbuddies for that matter.” She adds, because honestly, she would never bring anyone she messed around with back to the apartment. It gave off the wrong message. IF Clarke was to sleep with someone, it would be casual and on her terms. She was always upfront about it from the start, and always going to the opposite party’s place made it easier for her to slip out and cut ties if she ever felt that things were getting too serious.

\---  
By the end of the week, Clarke was seven days closer to her exhibition date and eight half-completed paintings deeper into her work. The sun was just peeking over the DC skyline, shadows casting against the ground. It should be inspiring to see from up in her apartment, they had one of the best views of the city, but she feels nothing, hitting a block and staying up all night.

“Alright, Clarkey.” She hears her roommate sing-song. “I’m doing this for your own good.” Octavia prefaces, entering the room with a spray bottle in hand.

“O…” She says cautiously. “What are you doing?” She asks, eying the plastic container that was now in her outstretched arms, finger on the trigger.

“You haven’t left the apartment for five days straight.” She reprimands. “You haven’t showered, and I’m pretty sure you’ve forgotten to eat at least half of your meals.”

“Chips and salsa.” She retorts, grabbing for her palette.

“Those aren’t a proper diet.” Octavia objects. “Even for you.” She places a hand on her hip. “At least get a burrito to go along with it.”

“I’m fine.” She shakes her head, picking up a brush from the easel. “I just need to get this done. And if I stop now, I might not…” her words are cut off by a cold spray of water against her face.

“Oh my god!” She says, flustered. “O! What the fuck?! You could have ruined it!” She rushes to examine her painting.

“It’s oil paint, Clarke.” The brunette rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t mix.” She points out. “Besides, s just mist. Now come on!” She pries the brushes out of her hands. “Get dressed. Something comfortable.” She instructs.

“What?” The blonde looks back at her canvas as she’s dragged away from her work. “Why? Where are we going?”

The brunette pushes her into the bathroom, turning on the shower.

“Yoga.” She says seriously.

“O! No!” Clarke whines, recalling how much of a disaster her last attempt had been.

“It’ll do you some good.” The brunette objects. “Now, go shower. You reek.” She gives her another push forward before shutting the door, holding onto the handle when Clarke tries to make an escape. She grumbles with a huff, stripping off her shirt, catching a whiff of herself.

 _Damn_. Maybe Octavia was right. She did stink.

\---  
They arrive at Trikru Yoga Studio just as Lexa is settling up the room, back to them on hands and knees as she rolls out the mats. She stays in that position even as she’s spacing them out, carefully making sure that each student has a clear view of the front of the room.

A wave of warmth floods to the blonde’s cheeks.

_Hot. Fucking. Damn._

She really was tenser than she realized.

Her roommate gives her a knowing green, beaming proudly at the reaction elicited by the blonde.

“See.” She whispers. “Told ya you could use this.”

“I thought you said she’s of limits.” Clarke mocks, sticking out her tongue.

“Real mature.” The brunette nudges her forward. “I’m just trying to get you to smile.” She defends.

“You know, I don’t understand you sometimes.” She chuckles. They take a seat in the middle of the class and Clarke fumbles through the entire hour, with Lexa’s slender hands constantly skimming over the blonde’s body to correct her posture. Clarke’s cheeks burn the whole time while green eyes twinkle in amusement.

“Alright, well, that was fun.” The blonde huffs as her roommate chats animatedly with the instructor, both laughing over one of the many falls Clarke had made during the class. “I’m heading out of here.” She says grumpily. She was Clarke Fucking Griffin, for Christ sake! She was supposed to be smooth and quick on her feet, yet here she was, the butt of the two brunettes’ jokes. On top of that, she had now wasted over an hour of her day that she could have spent painting or layout out some sort of art piece.

She’s about to stomp away and wait by the car, when Lexa turns her attention to her, stopping her in her tracks.

“Wait, aren’t you going to…”

Her words are cut off by a red jeep pulling into the parking lot, honking its horn. The group turns to find Anya and a tall, brusque looking man in the front seats of the vehicle.

“Move it!” The older woman cups her hands over her mouth “Sun’s out and I’m impatient.” She shouts.

When they finally pull up next to them, she looks over with a scowl.

“What’s _she_ doing here?”  She eyes Clarke guardedly.

“Taking a yoga class.” Octavia says simply.

“And going hiking.” Clarke puffs out her chest, challengingly. The way the older woman’s spoke had irked her, tone rubbing her the wrong way. And the young blonde was ready to put her in her place.

“Really?” Octavia raises a brow. “What about the…”

“Try and keep up.” She interrupts before her roommate can blow her cover. Lexa gives her a timid smile and the blonde tosses her hair over her shoulder, marching to the car. She hears Anya bark a “Lexa!” followed by a “Coming!” She catches sight of the slender brunette tossing her bag into the backseat, swiftly swinging in through the open frame of the vehicle.

Octavia and Lincoln follow behind her, her roommate clicking the button on her keys to unlock the door for Clarke to crawl in, mood soured.

They follow the jeep to the outskirts of the city, blue eyes trained on Lexa in the rear of the leading vehicle, stray brown strands of hair that had loosened from her braid, lapping in the breeze.

“What trail?” Her roommate asks when they arrive, entire crew stepping onto the gathering spot at the base of mountain where a small gazebo and hiking map stand weathered by the seasons, words faded and page yellowed by the sun.

Lexa is chatting with who Clarke learns is her sister’s boyfriend, Roan while Lincoln unpacks a few bottles of water and an emergency first aid kit from the trunk of the car. The only person paying attention is Anya, who stands impassively at Clarke.  

“The hardest.” The blonde says with determination, not daring to buckle under the sharp gaze.

“Clarke,” Her roommate furrows her brow. “I don’t really think now is the time…”

“The red trail.” She points to the map stubbornly, gritting through her teeth in a feign smile that she shoots at the older woman. Anya tilts her chin up, accentuating the chiseled angle of her cheekbones before taking the lead up the trail.  

“Alright, you asked for it.” Octavia shrugs. “Let’s go, Woods!” She shouts to Lexa, following the group clan with Lincoln at her side.

Anya and Roan start off the hike leading a few feet ahead with Lexa trailing slightly behind. Lincoln and Octavia stride in a more leisurely pace, holding hands as if they weren’t hiking up the steepest fucking mountain Clarke had ever seen.

Her calves are aching as she puffs up the incline, annoyed by the bugs now flying in her face, chest heaving, as she sweat uncomfortably through her clothes.

She wills herself to pay attention to her steps, not wanting to fall too far behind, or give off the impression that she was actually dying inside.

“I didn’t take you for the hiking type.” A soft voice startles her and she jumps back.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” The brunette giggles through her apology. Clarke looks around to find that the rest of the group is far ahead and Lexa has fallen back to make sure she wasn’t going to get lost.

“I’m not.” She says drily. There’s no point in pretending anymore. It’s rather obvious.

“So what made you want to come?” The yoga instructor’s smile is genuine and Clarke’s gaze falters. She diverts her eyes from the hypnotic green, skimming over the girl’s glistening chest.

 _You make me want to come._ She inwardly kicks herself. Step up your game, Griffin.

“Just trying to appreciate one of nature’s many gifts and most beautiful views.” She winks at Lexa and the brunette’s cheeks tint pink.

_Nailed it!_

“Hmm,” Lexa smirks. “I think you probably could’ve done that just by looking in the mirror.” She purrs before jogging to catch up with Lincoln and Octavia.

_How the fuck did she turn the table on her?_

She watches, jaw slack as the brunette she strikes up conversation easily, as if nothing had happened, chatting animatedly with her hands as her roommate and Lincoln nod along. Clarke grunts to herself, trekking behind the group yet again.

By the time they decide to take a break, Clarke has already downed her entire water bottle and part of Octavia’s, still feeling parched as hell.

“I’m so thirsty!” She groans and her roommate gives her a toothy grin.

“Are you now?” Octavia  teases.

“I. Fucking. Hate. You.” She pants. If it wasn’t so damn hot, she probably would have gotten back at her roommate for the morning’s events by pouring the rest of her water bottle on her head. But the liquid was too precious to waste at the moment. She takes another swig, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

The brunette simply tosses her head back with laughter, skipping off to join her boyfriend and Roan who were busy tossing rocks into the distance, trying to see who could launch theirs further.

 _Boys_. She rolls her eyes. Her attention falls back to Lexa who has busied herself with some stretches, leg propped against a tree as she leans forward, forehead coming in contact with her knee with ease. She then reaches for her sneaker, slender fingers wrapping around the toe of her shoe.

Clarke feels her legs turn to jelly at the girl’s flexibility.

“What are you intentions with sister?” a harsh voice hisses in her ear. She jumps again.

_What is with these Woods siblings and their obsession with scaring the shit out of her?_

“What are you talking about?” She straightens though the tall blonde still towers over her.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” She places her hands on her hips. I know about your _reputation._ ” She accuses.

“What rep?” Clarke narrows her eyes.

“Lincoln says that you sleep around.” The woman says matter-of-factly, giving her a once over. “Judging by your actions so far, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Are you _slut shaming_ me?” The blonde takes step forward.

“Of course not.” Anya doesn’t waver as she purses of her lips. “I’m just stating my observations.”

“I have needs.” She states bluntly. “I satisfy them. I move on.”

“Well, keep those needs to yourself around Lexa.” The woman threatens. “She’s too good for you.”

“Probably.” She shrugs. “But sex requires the consent of _both_ parties.” She states simply.

“Don’t play chivalrous with me.” Anya growls.

“What you’re saying would imply that Lexa wants it _just_ as much as I do.” Clarke says cockily.

“Why I ought to…” Anya raises her fist and in a flash of a millisecond, the blonde realizes the stupidity of her mistake.

“Hey!” Roan says.

 _My fucking savior._ She silently thanks the man.

“Everything okay over there?” He asks, coming to his girlfriend’s side and wrapping an arm around her.

“Just perfect.” Anya fakes. “Just trying to get to know Lexa’s newest friend.” She says in a disgustingly sweet tone. The man chuckles, rubbing her arm.

“Come on, let’s get back to the trail.” He suggests, pulling the woman away. He shoots an apologetic look over his shoulder as he escorts the temperamental older sister away.

Clarke forces herself to sprint up where Lexa was now leading the pack, ducking easily at the branches overhanging the beaten path.

“Careful of the spiny ones.” She points out. “They can get stuck in your hair.” She warms.

Clarke nods as they walk in a comfortable silence, the blonde occasionally stealing glances at the brunette who smirks, obviously noticing but choosing not to say anything.

“Watch for the snake…” Lexa informs after a beat, point at the group beside Clarke’s foot.

“What?!” Clarke squeals, running away in no particular direction. She’s never felt so exhausted in her life and when she turns, the group is laughing, especially Octavia. While Lexa is biting her lip, a playful smile threatening to spill over her features.

The yoga teacher bends to pick up the snake skin, dangling it in the air. “Skin.” Lexa laughs. “You didn’t let me finish my sentence.”

“I don’t care!” Clarke shouts back from her distance away. “That’s still repulsive!”

Lexa drops the skeletal remains, brushing her hands on her leggings before jogging up to Clarke effortlessly.

“Wrong time of day,” she says, looking up at the sun. “They won’t be out for another two hours of so.”

“Where you learn that from?” Clarke asks, curious as to where such a random bit of knowledge came from.

“A good friend taught me.” The brunette shrugs sadly.

Clarke wants to ask her why she suddenly didn’t have such a beautiful glimmer in her eye, but something about using a pick-up line at the moment just didn’t feel right. So she nods quietly, allowing the rest of the group to join them as they continued along the trail.

When they finally make it to the top, Clarke feels like she can conquer the entire world, the entire view shrouded by green tree tops and open skies. It’s freeing and she actually is thankful that she decided to go along. That is, until she realizes they have to go back _down_ the mountain too.

 Another two and a half miles later, Clarke can’t feel her legs and her lungs have probably disintegrated. You would think with gravity and all that inertia, the hike down would be a little easier. It wasn’t. If anything, it was harder. With the steepness of the hill, her thigh muscles were tense the whole time, struggling to keep her from falling forward or twisting her ankle. In her attempt to steady herself at one point, she stepped into a particularly wet patch of dirt ruining her Jordan’s. What made it worse was that she couldn’t even tell if it was mud or something else. She prayed for the first option.

When they finally reach the base of the mountain, Lexa takes her by the wrist, tugging her to the jeep where she retrieves a small travel-sized packet of wet wipes. She peels back the plastic cover, handing over a lemon-scented wipe to the blonde.

“You’re a saint, you know that?” Clarke beams, kneeling down to clean off her shoe.

“You just seemed really upset.” Lexa shrugs, crouching to join her while the rest of the group say their goodbyes. She’s so close to her face that she can see the small mole on Lexa’s lip and the light brown ring around her pupil that fades into a dazzling green the way the ground sprouted trees into the forest.

Lexa’s lips tilt to the right.

“You missed a spot.” She says, breaking eye contact with the blonde. She takes the wipe from Clarke’s hand, fingers brushing against her as she cleans off the area that the blonde had been too distracted to see the first time.

“Don’t indulge her.” Octavia says, now aware of the two hidden behind the jeep.

“No, please do.” Clarke grins. “Keep indulging.”

Lexa lets out a small puff of air from her nose, the tiniest single chuckle, as she rolls eyes.

“All clean.” She stands and Clarke glares at her roommate when Lexa turns away.

Octavia shrugs innocently mouthing an insincere ‘ _sorry.’_

Clarke flips the girl off with both hands mouthing ‘bullshit’ in response when Lexa spins on her heels and the blonde’s hands immediately fall to her side.

“Oh, Clarke!” She says, climbing into backseat of the red vehicle. “I almost forgot. I still have your hat.” She says slyly, leaning over the open frame. “I’ll give it to you next time you come to yoga.”

“Not happening.” The blonde wills herself to have some self-control, shaking her head.

“You said that last time, yet here you are.” The brunette says pointedly with a tilt of her head.

“Ehh.” She shrugs. “I guess people change.”

“Alright, Clarke.” Lexa smiles coyly as Roan starts the engine. “Well, if you want it back, you know how to reach me.” She departs with a wink and a wave, leaving Clarke dumbfounded yet again.

“Two days.” Her roommate says, causing the blonde to jump.

“Can everybody stop _fucking_ doing that?!” She groans. “And what are you even talking about?”

“Three, I’d say.” Lincoln joins them.

“The fuck, guys?” She cocks a brow.

“Before you call her.” Octavia informs.

She rolls her eyes, swiping the keys from her roommate before unlocking the door to get in. But not before she hears the rest of their conversation.

“I know Clarke.” Octavia insists.

“But I know Lexa.” her boyfriend counters.

They shake on it.

On Tuesday, Lincoln forks over $20.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody is giving me shit about Lexa and Clarke driving drunk. STAHPPPP. It's just a STORY!
> 
> Make sure to check out the newest chapter of Entwined as well! :)


	5. Five Guys and Two Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke attempts to get her hat back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, do not take the title the wrong way. It's not an orgy.
> 
> Just a short little chapter.

Clarke _never_ gave her snapbacks to anybody, let alone her _favorite_ snapback. Yet Lexa had had it for over a week and the blonde was growing restless. She still spent the majority of her time holed up her makeshift apartment studio, trying to find the proper inspiration to finish her pieces for the big event. She rolled out of bed, running on just a mere two hours of sleep, shuffling groggily back to the artistic dungeon that she trapped herself in. Other than saying goodbye to her roommate as she left for work, she hadn’t left the workspace.

Just as she was about to place a sliver of green onto the canvas, her phone buzz and she wiped her hands on her shirt before swiped the device off the window’s ledge where it had been sitting, cursing whoever it was that had texted her at such an important time.

_Don’t forget to eat! – O_

She rolls her eyes, going back to her painting.

Another hour later it chimes again.

_Seriously, Clarke. Put down the damn brush and get some food! – O_

The blonde ignores it yet again, debating on whether or not to just turn the damn thing off at this point. She switches it to vibrate instead.

Less than 10 minutes, the rumble pulls her from her work yet again.

 _Clarke Griffin! I swear to God, you better fucking eat something! – O_ It’s accompanied by a series of red faced emojis.

She huffs, rolling her eyes as she types back.

_Alright. I’m going. Damn. When did you become such a mom? – C_

She had skipped breakfast and it was now well passed noon. With a frustrated groan, the blonde picks a stopping point, though with her creativity block, any moment is a stopping point, and sets down her brushes in a small glass of water, allowing them to soak while she caps her paints and throws them into a large shoebox.

She lifts her arms over her head, stretching out her aching limbs and sore back, rolling her shoulders. A she does, she gets a whiff of her own scent, scrunching her nose. Maybe a quick shower before she actually goes for food.

After properly cleaning up, she feels a bit of the stress wash away, but even in a new change of clothes, she doesn’t feel herself. She blames a certain pair of green eyes and a missing snapback.

She shuffles to the rack by her door, surveying her other options. She frowns, tugging a replacement snapback over her head to put in place of her favorite one. It doesn’t look nor feel the same and it makes her hair look weird. Her stomach growls as she grumbles over her uncooperative hair. She tries to ruffle it slightly, replacing the cap over the curls again hoping for  better outcome. Her hair is still a disaster. She finally gives up, tossing the cap hap hazardously away into the depths of her closet.

She stomps over to her desk, riffling through the drawers until she finds what she’s looking for. Tucked away is a small sheet of paper that she had saved from a few weeks ago. Grabbing her phone, she taps the numbers and waits.

It rings five times and Clarke gets antsy before she’s greeted with an airy voice. She lets out a sigh of relief as the girl answers.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end asks.

“Hey.” She rasps into the receiver. “It’s Clarke.”

“I could tell.” She can practically hear the girl smiling through the phone. “I was wondering if I’d ever hear from you again. Are you naked?” She asks.

“Whoa! Wh-What?” The blonde’s eyes widened as she stutters. It throws her off completely. She intention was to call the brunette and ask her for her hat back, not have phone sex. Not that she would be completely opposed, but it was so out of the blue that...

“Without your snapback.” Lexa says, bringing Clarke back to the present. She can almost hear the brunette giggling. “You feel kinda naked.” Lexa clarifies, though Clarke has a feeling she had chosen her words purposely. “I was actually just going to give it to Octavia the next time I saw her if you didn’t reach out.” The brunette confesses.

“Oh. I uhh. Good. Yeah. Thanks.” Clarke responds back _oh so eloquently_. She could punch herself right now for being so lame.

Another giggle.

“So uhh, what are you doing right now?” She asks. Her mind is screaming at her to stop, knowing exactly where this is going.

“Nothing.” The brunette hums. “Just in my apartment reading.”

“Want to grab some lunch?” She asks almost bashfully. She can see her reflection in the mirror and her cheeks are tinting pink. She flips herself off. _What are you doing, Griffin?_

“Sure.” Lexa chirps. “Where should I meet you?”

“My apartment.” She responds too quickly. “I’ll take us to a place.” Clarke decides.

“Alright.” The brunette says and Clarke can hear the sound of shuffling on the other line. “I’ll be there at… “ she pauses, presumably to look at the time. “Around 1:15-ish.”

“Works for me.”

The second the two hang up, Clarke sprints, yes, actually sprints her lazy ass over to her laptop, googling the most healthy eateries she can find within a quick walking distance.

Lexa arrives promptly at 1:15, knocking on the door politely. The blonde strides over as smoothly as she can, now more prepared than she had been the last time she opened the door for the brunette. She thought she had the whole thing under control, that is, until she got a glimpse of the yoga instructor with her snapback on her head, brown curls framing her delicate face.

When the girl reaches to take it off, Clarke’s mind betrays her, blurting out much too quickly.

“Keep it on.” She says. “You’ve had it for this long. A few more hours won’t hurt. Besides, it looks good on you.” She likes seeing Lexa in her snapback, to be honest. Something about it was incredibly _hot._ Well, Lexa in general was pretty hot.

The girl’s green eyes sparkle appreciatively. “So what were you thinking? Italian? Mexican? Thai?” Lexa asks, listing a few options.

“I’ve got a place.” The blonde smirks.

“Are you gonna tell me?” Lexa quirks a brow.

“Nah.” Clarke shrugs. “I think I’ll keep it a surprise. Trust me?” She wiggles her brow.

Lexa hesitates.

“Smart.” Clarke laughs. “I wouldn’t either.”

They take the elevator per Clarke’ insistence, and make their way to the small shop that the blonde had expected would be a hit to the brunette and earn her some major brownie points.

“Maggie’s Grassland?” Lexa reads the overhanging sign with a hint of surprise. “I must say, I definitely did not see that coming.” She admits. Clarke takes it as a win.

“You’re not the only one full of surprises.” The blonde flirts.

“I guess not.” The brunette’s lips tilt up slightly.

 _Doing great, Griffin!_ She mentally pats herself on the back.

Everything was going much better than the first few times interacting and Clarke was glad to finally have the upper hand. Until she actually got the menu. Aside from the phrases ‘ _vegan’_ and ‘ _gluten free’_ she couldn’t understand a thing on the menu. And even then, she wasn’t even sure what being _gluten free_ entailed. Healthy. Probably.

In the end she gets a simple salad while Lexa, more adeptly orders some sort of tofu entrée with a side of kale chips.

“I’m sorry about Anya, by the way.” The brunette says, after the waiter leaves them after taking their orders, filling the silence. “She can be a bit intense.”

“She doesn’t scare me.” Clarke clears her throat.

“No?” Lexa asks. “That’s surprising.”

“I’m fearless.” The blonde gloats.

“The snake would say otherwise.” The brunette points out amusingly.

“I was just thrown off.” Clarke defends. “And it was just the skin, remember?”

“I do.” She nods, eyes glittering. “Hard to forget.”

“I am pretty unforgettable, aren’t I?” She slips in smoothly.

“Do you always talk like this?” Lexa asks. “With lines?”

“Only to gorgeous girls like you.” She says shamelessly. The brunette blinks and Clarke has to commend her for the façade, despite how much it absolutely blows.

Lexa completely ignores her second attempt, returning back to the previous topic. “You’re not afraid of anything? I don’t believe it.”

“Because I’m just so unbelievable…ly awesome.” The blonde jokes.

“That was terrible.” The yoga instructor shakes her head, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, I’m trying here.” She defends and Lexa just laughs. Normally, she would find her own clumsiness and inability to flirt frustrating, but seeing and hearing the brunette throw her head back, releasing an airy laugh made it somewhat tolerable. She actually didn’t mind the fumbling as much. But _that_ , she knew, was dangerous.  

When their food arrives, the blonde is starving, scarfing down her salad, probably chewing like a cow, but not quite caring in the moment. Her plate is empty too soon and she feels as though she hadn’t eaten at all, still unsatisfied. A few minutes later, and much more classily, Lexa finishes off her tofu, snacking carefully on her chips, which  Clarke learns are not chips at all, but roasted leaf-looking things. _So misleading._

“How was your salad?” Lexa asks, brushing off her hands and patting the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “You scarfed that down pretty fast.”

“Oh, it was amazing.” She lies. “I’m stuffed. I don’t think I could eat…”

Her stomach blows her cover, growling loudly causing Lexa to raise an eyebrow. She gives her a knowing smile.

“Hungry?” She teases.

“Depends on what I’m eating.” Clarke tries to brush off, biting her lip in her best attempt to smooth over the situation.

Lexa again ignores her innuendo, rolling her eyes with a soft chuckle. “Come on, I’ve got the perfect place for a second lunch.”

They quickly pay their bill and step out onto the sidewalk. The brunette leads them down the block and Clarke expects her to stop at one of the healthy smoothie places but Lexa keeps walking past it until she stops in front of a red and white sign.

“Five Guys?” Clarke says in surprise.

“The only men I need in my life.” Lexa smirks, raising her eyebrows proudly, holding the door open for Clarke to walk in. The smell of burgers fills her nostrils and she thanks the Gods for the gift of grease and meat.

“And here I thought you were one of those typical fitness girls.” The blonde confesses.

“I warned you appearances can be deceiving.” The brunette reminds, referring back to the night at the party, eyes sparkling. Clarke feels herself getting pulled in by them when Lexa speaks again. “So, what’ll it be? Little cheeseburger? Bacon cheeseburger?” She reads off the menu, the mention of each making Clarke’s mouth water. That, and the gorgeous brunette in front of her, head tilted up, exposing her sharp jawline, elegant neck, and finally collarbones, Clarke’s personal favorite.

“Hello,” The cashier greets the brunette. “What can I get for you?” He asks.

“A cheeseburger with everything on it, medium fries, and a drink.” Lexa says, before stepping aside for Clarke to place her order as well.

“And you?” The boy asks, leaning a bit closer as Clarke decides on which combination she wants. Suddenly, she feels a hand slip over her waist and the scent of perfume and shampoo overpowering the smell of grease and fries.

“Baby,” Lexa purrs into her ear, causing a heat to shoot through Clarke’s body. “Just get a burger. You can share my drink and fries.” She says, nose brushing against Clarke’s cheek and the blonde freezes.

_Fuck me._

“I…” She stutters, completely thrown off by the vixen-like voice and change of character. “Lexa, what are you doing?” She barely manages to squeaks out.

“I just can’t wait to _eat_.” She rasps, free hand brushing up Clarke’s arm. She turns back to the cashier. “She’ll get the same. Cheeseburger, everything on it.” The brunette orders for her. Clarke can barely breathe.

The cashier clears his throat and quickly punches in the order before forking over the receipt and their orders in a brown paper bag.

Lexa shoots him a feigned smile, pulling Clarke by the waist and escorting her to a table.

“Sorry about that.” She apologizes once they sit down, withdrawing her hand. “He was totally eyeing you and not in a good way.”

“You jealous?” Clarke teases, unfazed by the horny male’s reaction. She was used to it.

“No.” The brunette retorts flatly.

_Ouch. That hurt._

“He should have been respectful of you, especially if he wanted it to get him somewhere.” Lexa says mater-of-factly. “I hate when women are treated like objects, and he was definitely treating you like one.” She grumbles. “I had to do something to get him to stop.” She justifies.

“My hero.” Clarke bats her eyes exaggeratedly with a grin. It doesn’t have the desired effect.

“I’m not a hero.” Lexa mutters with a frown.

Clarke studies her.

“I was kidding.” The blonde tries to lighten the mood.

“I know.” The brunette sighs, reaching into the bag of food, retrieving a burger, handing the rest over to Clarke. “You can have the fries and drink if you want.” She says apologetically.

The blonde nods, unsure of how the mood had taken such a drastic turn. Thankfully it doesn’t last long and they fall back into a light-hearted banter rather quickly.

“Call me crazy,” The blonde says, taking a fry from where they were sitting in the cup between the two, opting to actually do as the brunette had suggested and share their fries and drink.

“Crazy.” Lexa smirks, taking a fry as well.

“Okay, _you_.” Clarke rolls her eyes, scrunching up her nose. “Anyway, like I was saying, call me crazy, but you’re actually pretty chill.” She compliments.

“Thank you.” The brunette smiles gently. “I enjoy your company as well.”

“Hey,” Clarke points a fry at the girl. “I never said anything about _that_.” She says smugly, popping the fry into her mouth.

“Your eyes did.” The yoga instructor accuses, unaffected by Clarke’s attempt to gain the upper hand.

“Oh, so you’ve been looking into my eyes.” Clarke wiggles her brow.

“Better than _you_ , looking at my _chest_.” Lexa calls her out. Clarke realizes that she had just been berated, especially after the brunette’s reaction to their cashier.

“I…” She tries to apologize.

“Don’t worry about it.” Lexa waves a hand. “You always this high strung?” she teases, signaling that all is forgiven.

“When I have an exhibit to prep for, yes.” Clarke says honestly.

“Oh.” The brunette sounds genuinely interested. “What do you usually paint?”

“Nudes.” The blonde says sheepishly.

“Oh?” Lexa replies.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” Clarke asks self-consciously. She could be confident, and even cocky about her body, but when it came to her art, she was the complete opposite.

“Not at all.” Lexa says firmly. “But if you’re so stressed, and you don’t like yoga, how do you ever relax?”

 _Sex_. She thinks to herself.

“Uhh, I smoke pot, to put it bluntly. Pun intended.” She says nervously.

Lexa narrows her eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that.” The blonde says defensively.

“Like what?” Lexa tilts her head.

“You’re judging me.” Clarke accuses.

“I’m not.” The brunette objects.

“Then what is _that_ look for?” Clarke presses.

“Just wondering what you’re like when you’re high.” The brunette smirks. Clarke wasn’t expecting that response.

“Care to find out?” She suggests.

The tilt of Lexa’s smirk goes higher. “Some other time.” She looks at her watch. “I’ve got a class to teach. See you around, Clarke.” She says, running off with a wink over her shoulder.

Clarke watches her retreating figure, blown away by the girl’s smooth exit.

It’s not until she returns to her apartment that she realizes she’s had been so enraptured by the brunette that she had forgotten all about her snapback. _Again!_


	6. A Proposal for Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke finds her inspiration while Lexa finds herself in trouble.

Lexa saw something in Clarke, strangely deflective and forcibly happy at all times, but there was something about those blue eyes that made her wonder if maybe what she saw was only surface level, that there was something more. If maybe the blonde’s behavior was a defense mechanism, similar to the ones Lexa herself had been so accustom to using when things started to get too serious. Maybe Clarke was just trying to get through each day, the same as Lexa.

 _Life should be about more than just surviving._ A gentle voice reminds her. She closes her eyes and allows herself to feel the warmth of Costia’s arms around her, fingers brushing through her hair.

_“You work too hard.” The woman in front of her lectures, placing her hands on her hips. “You're going to tire yourself out.”_

_“I have to get this done, Cos.” She says flatly._

_“That paper will still be there when we get back.” Costia reasons with a tender smile. “It's just for a few hours. You need to take a break.” She urges. “You should at least eat something.”_

_“I'll eat when I'm dead.” She rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to the computer screen as she continues to type away, fingers hitting the keys a bit more aggressively as she projects her frustrations into the report she was writing. “I have to get this report to Indra before the end of the day. And then there's the contractor for the room. And the paints! Oh shit!  I forgot to pick up the paint.” She realizes, now in a state of frenzy._

_“Hey!” Her girlfriend coaxes gently, “Lexa, baby, calm down.” She hushes. “It's fine. We can get them tomorrow. What do you say we take a trip to go to the studio for a little? They just put in the flooring.” She suggests with a bright smile._

_“No.” The brunette shakes her head stubbornly. “No, I have to get our lives together. How are we going to survive if…” she stops when her girlfriend interrupts her with a chuckle._

_“Life should be about more than just surviving, Lex.” She laughs wrapping her arms around the brunette gently tugging her up and out of the chair she was hunched over in. Lexa stiffens her body, weighing herself down as her girlfriend continued to wriggle around her, giggling in amusement._

_“Babyyy.” She whined, playfully jutting her lower lip out in the biggest pout she could muster, knowing exactly how to play her. It only takes a tremble of her lip and Lexa cracks._

_She rolls her eyes, and Costia leans over her, pecking her on the cheek before prying her fingers away from the keys, bringing them to her lips and placing soft kisses on the tops of her knuckles._

_Lexa sighs, melting into the soft touch of the woman in front of her._

_“Okay.” She concedes. “Let me change.”_

Clarke was nothing like Costia. She was brash and cocky, yet everything about her seemed to intrigue the brunette. Not to mention those eyes. Lexa had always had a weakness for gorgeous eyes. And Clarke’s were like the point where the horizon collided with the sky over the ocean. _So_ blue and _so_ breathtaking.

When her yoga lesson had concluded the brunette saw that she had one text waiting for her. It was from Clarke and it simply read _You stole my hat. Again._ Followed by an unamused emoji face. She chuckles.

 _Come to yoga._ She tempts with a short response.

A few minutes later she gets another text.

_Hey, I need your help._

Puzzled, she responds back almost instantly. _Anything for you. What's up?_

\---

“What's that still doing here?” Her sister juts her chin out towards the snapback that has since reappeared at its initial spot on the kitchen table. “I thought you said you were going to return it.”

Lexa nods. “I did.”

Anya quirks a brow. “And yet, it's _still_ here.” She rolls her eyes and Lexa can't help but smirk at her sister's overly protective behavior.

“You _really_ don't like her, do you?” She sniggers. She had _inkling_ that Anya wasn't Clarke’s biggest fan after the way she had been sizing her up during their hiking trip. Anya had practically stared daggers into the girl, and if it were possible, probably would have killed her. In a way, Lexa found it somewhat comical.

“She’s a pig.” Her sister says, crossly, folding her arms over her chest she tilts her chin down to cast shadows over her cheekbones, eyes cutthroat once again. “In every sense of the word.”

“Always so quick to judge.” The brunette shakes her head with a laugh. Clarke did come across as a bit of a player, but a little harmless flirting never hurt anyone, right?

Anya glowers at her, frowning so deeply Lexa thinks it might break her jaw.

“She’s not that bad.” The younger sister shrugs trying to alleviate her sister’s concerns. “I think there’s more to her than she lets on.”

“Really, Lexa?” Anya rolls her eyes. “You’re defending her. You're so innocent sometimes.” she says with a mix of endearment and annoyance. “Always so trusting and seeing the good in people. While I, well, let's be real here. I'm a cynical cunt.” She laughs sarcastically at Lexa’s cringing of the word.  

“There’s good in everybody.” The brunette objects. “Costia taught me that.” She mumbles sadly. Costia had taught her a lot of things. She was incredibly kind and patient, wise and intelligent. Honestly, she was more than Lexa deserved. Maybe that's why the universe took her away from her.

Her sister softens, placing a hand upon her knee.

“Yet, you don’t see it in yourself.” Anya says gently. She pauses, noticing how Lexa has tensed. “Sorry.” the older woman apologizes.

“It’s okay.” Lexa shakes her head.

Anya sighs. “I just think she's a player and I don't want you to get hurt.” The older woman confesses truthfully.

“I won't get hurt.” Lexa assures. “We're just friends.”

“Yeah,” Anya nods. “But I know you. You said the same thing about Costia too, and then, _bam_ , one day you realized you were in love with her. Next thing you know, you're dating.” Anya points out.

“Yeah, but you _liked_ Costia.” She reminds.

“Because she was nothing like Clarke.” Anya snorts.

“No.” Lexa sighs. “She wasn't.” The mood suddenly grows somber.

“Hey,” the older woman softens. “I'm sorry. Whatever makes you happy, okay? Just promise me you'll be careful?”

Lexa nods, obliging. She wants to argue that there's nothing going on between her and Clarke but decides to drop the argument entirely. It wasn't worth it.

“So are you going to see her again?” The blonde tries to ask more openly.

“Maybe.” Lexa shrugs, trying divert her attention elsewhere, rather than look her sister in the eye. “I'm not sure. Would it really be that bad if I did?” She says almost timidly. Her sister is silent and when Lexa looks up, she's relieved to find a small smirk on the blonde’s lips.

“Disastrous.” Anya says sarcastically, tone light and teasing.

“Wreckless.” Lexa nods in agreement, ignoring the strange tug at her heart.

The room returns to a more casual atmosphere. “I told her to come to yoga and I'd give it to her then.” She gestures at the beaten accessory, worn from days upon days of loving and many adventures that Lexa wonders if she should really be this curious about. “But I doubt she will she doesn't really seem the type.”

“Neither did you.” Anya points out knowingly. She gives a sad smile as Lexa nods.

 _It's true_.

Costia had initially gotten her into the activity in the first place, insisting that it could be a nice “couple’s activity” to do. She went every once in a while, mostly when her girlfriend had an empty spot in class. But the majority of the time, yoga was Costia’s thing.

After her passing, Lexa found that going to the studio make her feel a little closer to her lost lover, and much less angry with her situation. She had worked so hard, saved up so much money, and for _what_? None of it mattered when Costia died. She quit her job, finished opening the studio, naming it in honor of the woman: Costia Trikru. And she buried herself in it. The innate businesswoman in her made it easy to get the studio up and running and she spent most of her time with her heart and soul invested in Trikru. It was all she had left.

Anya clears her throat, no doubt aware of what her sister was thinking of, or more so, _who_ her sister was thinking of. Here brown eyes are sympathetic and encouraging.

“Come over tonight?” The older woman asks, bringing her back to the present. “I'm hosting a movie night with Roan, Lincoln, and Octavia.”

“How'd you get wrangled into that one?” the brunette humors, already knowing the details of what most likely happened.

She also knew Anya didn't mind hosting parties, but a double date was out of the question. She didn't even want to go on double dates when she and Costia were together, reasoning that it would be awkward to watch her baby sister flirt, much less kiss.

“Sometimes I regret introducing my best friend to my boyfriend.” She grumbles.

“So you want me to mediate between you and Octavia?” She accuses knowingly, though she mentally had already made the decision to go and spare her sister the torture.

“I just don't trust her.” Anya says for the seemingly second time that day.

“You don't trust anybody.” Lexa points out with a grin. She knows Anya doesn't really mean it most of the time. She's happy for Lincoln. They all are.

“I trust you.” Her sister brushes off, waving her hair in the air.

“Yeah “ she says with a roll of her eyes “Because you have to. And I'm sorta awesome.” She tacks on sheepishly.

“You don't sound conceited at all.” Anya says dryly, pulling her into a headlock.

“Oww!” She frowns, gripping the woman’s, but Anya had always been stronger than her. “Anya! What are you doing? That hurts!” She struggles to free herself from the older woman's grasp.

“Just trying to deflate that big head of yours.” She teases, rubbing her knuckles against the brunette’s hair.

“Okay!” The younger woman squirms. “Alright! Okay! I give!” She shoves the blonde off of her with a scowl. “You're so immature.” She grumbles, grumpily rebraiding her now disheveled hair.

Anya hums contently, leaning back on the couch.

“So tonight, you coming or what?” She leans back against the cushions, a smug look plastered on her face.

“Alright. Fine.” She agrees. “I guess I can squeeze in some time with you.” She jests.

“Watch yourself, little sister.” Anya glares but Lexa jumps up before she can attack her again.

“By the way,” the brunette smirks deviously. “I know someone you trust _besides_ me.”

“Yeah?” Her sister scoffs. “Who?” She dares but Lexa isn't fazed.

“Roackey-pokey.” She sing songs, using the name her sister had once drunkenly called her boyfriend while simultaneously attempting to do the Hokey-Pokey completely inebriated. Lexa and Roan had both spent their evening dragging her sister back to the couple’s apartment. And only then did they realize that's neither of them had taken a video of the likely, once in a lifetime occurrence.  Nonetheless, the mentioning of the night still set the blonde’s cheeks ablaze.

“I told you _never_ to say that again!” Anya's eyes widen in embarrassment as her blush creeps over her face, right on cue. Lexa bursts out laughing as Anya thrusts a pillow from the couch in the younger woman’s direction. The brunette sticks out a tongue playfully and Anya surges forward, chasing Lexa around the small apartment.

\---

“So,” Octavia smiles, leaning over the table with rapt interest as they waited for the rest of the group to arrive. “I heard you hung out with my roommate today.”

Anya was by the counter popping a few bags of microwave popcorn while Octavia and Lexa chatted.

“I did see Clarke.” Lexa confirms with a nonchalant nod. She glances quickly over at her sister to gauge her reaction. She didn't seem to hear, which Lexa was grateful for. She didn't want to bring up Clarke again. Especially not tonight and in front of Anya. “I was going to return her hat.” She finishes simply.

“And then you ended up leaving with it!” The younger girl hoots with laughter. “Good job!” She praises, holding up a hand for Lexa to high-five.

“Uhh.” Lexa quirks an eyebrow, hesitantly reciprocating the gesture. “You’re welcome?” By now Anya has finished and is approaching the pair with a large bowl of snacks. She pops a few pieces of popcorn in her mouth, taking a seat next to Lexa’s side.

Honestly, Lexa hadn’t meant to leave with the hat, but it just sort of happened. She was in a rush and Clarke’s eyes were _so blue._ She mentally scolds herself for getting so distracted again.

“I should have thought to bring it tonight. You could have given it back to her.” She says to the blonde’s roommate.

“Oh no.” Octavia holds up a hand. “I'm glad you didn't. I love it!” She giggles.

“What do you mean?” Lexa asks, confused. “Why?”

“She hasn’t stopped talking about it. She’s fucking livid.” The brunette practically cackles. Even Anya seems amused by the fact that Clarke was being tormented.

“I wasn’t trying to upset her.” Lexa admits honestly. She didn't know the accessory held so much importance to the blonde. Maybe she _should_ stop toying and give it back.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Octavia assures. “It’s so funny!”

“You enjoy causing her pain.” Lexa observes with a quirk of her brow. “Hmm.” She ponders, eyes slowly trailing to land on her sister. “Sounds like someone I know.” She accuses playfully.

The blonde rolls her eyes before _classily_ flipping her off.

“Keep doing that and I'm gonna tell Roan.” The younger sister chuckles.

“He knows you're a brat.” Anya retorts, taking another few piece of popcorn and chewing, tossing a kernel in Lexa’s direction.

“Am not!” Lexa objects, taking a few pieces herself before shooting one back at her sister. “ _You're_ the brat.” She insists. “I don't know how he puts up with you.”

“The same way I put up with _you_.” Anya shoots back. “With annoyed affection.”

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Speaking of, where is he?” She asks, putting a halt to their bickering, addressing her yoga student.

“He and Lincoln were supposed to be here almost half an hour ago.” Octavia says, biting her lip. She looks to check her phone. “I'll text him.” She says, fighting back a grin.

Something’s off and Anya narrows her gaze at Octavia who simply gives her an innocent smile before stuffing her face with a handful of popcorn. A few minutes later, there's a knock on the door and she hops up from her place at the table.  

“I'll get it.” She volunteers all too eagerly. Lexa chuckles at her enthusiasm.

“Kill me.” Anya grow as when she's out of earshot and Lexa smiles sympathetically. Lexa may like the brunette but that doesn't mean Anya does on the same level. Anya does not do bubbly, and Octavia has been uncharacteristically bubbly, even for her.

When she returns, there's a bouquet of flowers in her arms.

“They're for you.” She holds out the bundle to Anya who takes them with confusion etched into her features. Lexa grins, green eyes glittering.

“There's something else at the door, but I can't lift it by myself.” Octavia continues. “Anya will you help me?” She asks as sweetly as she can, batting her eyes.

“Get Lexa to do it.” Her sisters snorts. She shoves Lexa forward but the brunette refuses to abide.

“I have to pee, actually.” Lexa defies, rushing down the hall before Anya can object. But instead of turning the corner to the bathroom, as she had stated she was going to do, the yoga instructor continues forward into the bedroom to grab the film camera that Roan had said would be in the bottom desk drawer. She makes it back just in time to see Lincoln and Octavia hold two more bouquets of flowers and Roan smiling that half grin-half smirk thing that he always had on his face when Anya was around.

She hits “record.”

“Roan,” Anya's tone is guarded and Lexa can't help but chuckle. _Typical Anya._ “What the fuck is this?” She glares at the bouquets, placing her hands on her hips. _Also typical Anya._

Roan’s grin simply widens and Lexa knows he's probably thinking the same thing about her sister.

“An,” he says patiently, unfazed by the aggression in her sister's voice. “I know you hate surprises and grand gestures, but I hope you'll make an exception just this once.”

“Roan Azgeda,” her sister grimaces “I swear to God, if you fucking…”

“Let the man speak.” Lexa cuts off and her sister glares at her. Only then does she realize that there's a camera, a horrified expression falls across on her face. When she turns back to her boyfriend, he is already on one knee beaming up at the blonde.

“Oh no!” Anya's eyes widen. “No way. This is not happening.” She says, shaking her in disbelief.

Roan simply continues to smile at her fussing.

“Anya Woods,” he repeats patiently. “I know you probably don't need anyone in your life to make you happy. We both know that you're independent and strong enough to take care of yourself, but I want to do it for you, if you'll let me. You make _me_ happy. And I want to return the favor. Every minute of every day.”

Anya opens her mouth to speak but no works come out. So Roan continues.

“You're strong and stubborn sometimes, and that's probably my _favorite_ thing about you. And best of all, you know that I'm stubborn to. When I want something, there's no turning back. And An, let me tell you, I want _you_. Will you marry me?”

“I… Roan… I…”

Lexa can't help but stifle a giggle. The camera shakes slightly in her hand and she focuses on calming herself to ensure that the shot isn't ruined. Not many people can fluster her sister leaving her this dumbstruck and speechless.

But Roan isn't just anyone.

He and Anya had been together since college when she shoved him out of the way in the campus bookstore because he was taking too long to decide which notebook to get. Anya had told him the red one just as she shouldered past him. The next day, she found out he was her TA. The two spent the first semester making each other's lives absolute hell. And the two spent the second semester making out and raising hell.

When she told Lexa the story, the brunette found the whole thing absolutely hilarious. A love hate relationship was just so very _Anya_. And Roan had just the personality to complement her sister’s.  

She's pretty sure Anya is about to hyperventilate, eyes growing wider by the second. She clenches her fists, opening and closing them at her sides as Roan takes the ring box and opens it. The diamond shimmer in the fluorescent overhead light and that's when she loses it.

“I… I'm sorry.” She bolts, running past the door. Roan looks stunned and Lexa stops recording, throwing the camera on the couch before rushing after her sister.

“Anya! Wait!” She calls after the blonde. Octavia drops her bouquet and stares, jaw agape. The last thing Lexa sees is Lincoln at Roan’s side, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Outside, the cool spring air swirls around her, wind blowing her hair in every direction. DC had never been too kind when it came to allowing Lexa to have even remotely manageable hair days. She internally curses it all.

“Anya!” Lexa calls out again as she exits the building. She looks both ways, fingers hooking around the wild strands brushing against her face as she searches frantically for any sign of her sister. When she's met with nothing, she decides to go with her gut, veering left. A few minutes later, she spots the older woman on one of the metal bus benches along the street curb.

“Hey,” she says carefully as she approaches, hands in her back pocket. “You aren't trying to run away from me, are you?” She tilts her head at the bus schedule, trying to lighten the mood.

But when she looks up Anya’s eyes are teary and Lexa’s heart breaks. Her sister rarely ever cried. In fact, Lexa thinks she's only seen her cry twice. Once when their parents died, and the other when Lexa almost did.

Anya didn't cry the day she broke her arm when she fell out of the tree Lexa dared her to climb. Not when they were forced to move to DC to live with their uncle. Or when Lexa had begrudgingly cut off some of her hair. _Never_.

Anya Woods didn't cry over pain. She did though, cry over loss. And Lexa hopes that this isn't the case. They had already lost so many of those close to them. So many of _their people_. It was just them now.

Lexa frowns as she approaches. “What happened back there?” She asks gently.

Her sister runs her hand through wavy blonde locks sighing heavily. Lexa pauses another moment before kneeling in front of the older woman.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She asks, placing both hands on her sister’s knees. Anya diverts her eyes, training her gaze on a very domestic looking couple walking their dog down the block. She understands her silent response, nodding.

“Okay.” She swallows, caressing her thumbs over Anya’s knees before taking a seat to the older woman's side.

She waits. She waits until Anya’s locked glassy eyes come back to the present, shoulders deflating, and tension leaves her body bit by bit.

The cool night wind nips around them and Lexa wishes she had maybe brought a coat for them to share. It was getting to a point when the mornings and afternoons were reasonably warm, comfortable enough to enjoy the sun, but the nights, dark and alone, could go either way.

“I saw it coming.” The blonde finally speaks, shivering slightly.

“Yeah,” Lexa nods. “You've been together to what, five years now?”

“Six.” Anya corrects flatly.  

“Yes, so six years. You've been together for six years.” Lexa reiterates. “It was bound to happen. Unless you…”

“I don't want to leave.” Anya interjects, voice cracking slightly.

“Then don't leave him.” Lexa chuckles. “All you have to do is say _yes_.” She instructs.

“No, that's not…” She groans, rubbing her face aggressively. When she removes her hands, her eyes are wet and cheeks, tear streaked again. A wave of concern rushes through the young brunette.

“An, please,” she coaxes. “What’s wrong?”

Her sister continues to cry even harder now and the brunette’s mind starts to imagine a variety of worst case scenarios, most of which involve death.

“Anya,” She begs, trembling. “Talk to me.”

“Roan got a job offer. He's being promoted.” Her sister finally blurts out.

Lexa blinks, worries decreasing in severity. “But that's awesome.” She praises. “He deserves it. They're always sending him all over the place for business trips and…”

Anya gives a somber nod in agreement, but her next words cut her off. “It's in Iceland.”

Lexa’s heart stops.

“He wants me to go with him.” The blonde explains.

“So go with him.” Lexa says, leaving no time to second guess her situation. She pushes pass the way her stomach seems to drop, putting on her bravest face.

The blonde clenches her jaw, settling it in stone.  “I can't just leave.” She says. “You.” She barely whispers. The sound gets lost in the bustle of DC traffic, but the word lingers in her eyes.

“I'll be alright.” Lexa tries to assure, burying the guilty feeling in her heart. Anya had always put her younger sister before herself. She was guarded and careful, but that's because she saw what putting your heart into someone could do; what it did to Lexa when it was suddenly taken away.

“I don't want…” Anya sighs, struggling to voice her thoughts out loud. Lexa still understands though. It was something the two siblings shared, the ability to communicate silently based on even the most minuscule of body language.

“When does he have to decide by?” She asks.

“End of the month.” Anya sniffs, wiping ways her tears in anger.

“And the move?” Lexa swallows.

“In three.”

“Oh.” Is all the brunette can muster up in response.

A silence falls over them.

“You don't have to take care of me, Anya.” The younger woman finally whispers. “You deserve to be happy too.” Lexa says easily. She says it like it's the most truthful statement she has ever spoken, the most important of words ever to leave her lips. She wants happiness for Anya. That's all she wants; for her older sister to go back to smiling again. And not just the rare ones here and there, but a constant, never ending smile of carefree bliss.

“I _am_ happy.” The older woman insists. Green eyes detect the woman's honesty as a seemingly peaceful air falls over her sister. And Lexa knows she's thinking about Roan.

“I know that.” Lexa smiles. “But you should maybe tell _him_ that.” She tilts her head down the street where a cautious Roan stands, watching the two siblings with a look of hesitance. Anya gives him a small wave and relief washes across his features.

“Talk to him.” Lexa encourages, giving her sister’s knee a squeeze. “He’ll understand.”

\---

“So, the other day was uhh… interesting.” Octavia says Saturday morning after class.

Lexa had spent the entire week worrying over her sister. Anya had been responding to her texts with simple one or two word answers but refused to answer any of her calls. The brunette knew it wasn't personal, Anya just needed some time. But that still didn't mean Lexa wasn't concerned. Roan was good to her, and good _for_ her. She hoped that she wouldn't let fear dictate her relationship or let go of something that could be perfect for her.

As much as she loved her sister, it would be selfish to have Anya stay here just because she didn't think Lexa could take care of herself. She needed to prove to her sister that she was okay without her. That she was independent and could be responsible. That she was _better_.

“Yeah,” Lexa nods stiffly. Her mood is still off from the week. Even her yoga teaching wasn't as smooth as it could be and she felt herself struggling to breathe evenly as she instructed the class.

“Is she okay?” Octavia asks, genuinely concerned for the blonde.

“I think so.” The yoga instructor believes. “She's just a little hesitant to get so dependent on someone else.” She says vaguely. After all, it wasn't her story to tell.

“I think we all know someone like that.” The student settles into agreement. “And what about you?” She prods gently. “Are _you_ okay? You seem a bit… off.”

Lexa forces a smile, feigning through it. “I'm good.” She says shakily. Octavia raises her eyebrow, and Lexa knows she doesn't buy it. She used to be better at lying.

“You can tell me, you know.” Octavia offers. “We’re friends and I'm here if you need someone to talk to.” She promises kindly and Lexa gives her a grateful smile. She knows Octavia is being genuine, but she only really felt comfortable talking to Anya about things. This time it was a little more complicated since Anya was the reason for her conflict in the first place. She had a sister, a confidant, a support system, all placed dangerously in one person. What was going to happen when that person left? Hopefully not the same thing as last time.

Octavia had said they were friends, something she hadn't allowed herself to have in a long time. But lately, she’d found herself befriending quite a few people at parties that Anya had taken her to, picking up a few acquaintances as well along the way.

“Do you maybe want to hang out later?” The younger brunette asks. “Get your mind off things? I know we usually have Lincoln and Anya around, but we can still do stuff without them, right?” Her eyes are hopeful and Lexa nods appreciatively.

“Right.” She confirms.

“Oh! By the way,” Octavia snaps her fingers in realization. “I forgot to tell you, Clarke has been asking about you.” She smirks.

“Yeah?” Lexa raises her brow in amusement.

The game that she and Clarke had been wordlessly, or maybe not so wordlessly been playing, over the last few days had been quite comical. Even amongst the chaos of Anya's proposal meltdown, the texts that the blonde had been sending her, though few and far between, always managed to take her mind off things and she found herself wishing for more of them, especially the horrendously attempted pick-up lines that Lexa spent her time rereading and giggling over alone in her apartment before typing back a witty response to shoot down yet again.

“Well, her hat.” Octavia admits sheepishly.

“Ahh,” Lexa knowingly chuckles. “That makes more sense. It's in my car. Do you want me to just give it to you to return to her?”

Octavia ponders it for a second, but then shakes her head at the suggestion. “Nah, maybe later tonight. For now it'll at least give her something else to obsess over instead of one. She could use the distraction.”

“Her art show stressing her out?” Lexa asks, perceptively.

“You have no idea.” Octavia rolls her eyes. “She always gets like this around this time of the year, but it's even worse with the show added on top of it.”

Lexa wants to ask what she means by “this time of year” but decides it's not really her place to pry into her personal life. If Clarke wanted to share, she would let her do so on her own time. That's what Lexa would want for herself, anyway.  Besides, they had only ever really hung out three times and texted serious conversations a handful. That most likely didn't constitute as the “pour your heart out and let me into your soul” point just yet. Things between her and Clarke were light and easy. And Lexa wanted to keep it that way.

So she nods and lets Octavia continue on her ramble as they make their way towards their parked cars.

“You should invite Clarke to hang out with us too.” The yoga instructor says at the last minute. Octavia gives her a look if genuine surprise.

“Really? She's not too obnoxious?” The roommate laughs.

Lexa bites her lip, shaking her head.

“Alright.” Octavia obliges. “That's probably a good idea. She needs to get out of that studio anyway.”

\---

Clarke hasn't actually moved from her spot since Octavia had left that morning. In fact, the blonde probably hasn't moved since she left a few days ago. Her stomach is literally eating itself, but she can't do much else other than occasionally snack on a handful of chips, washing the saltiness down with a dangerously unhealthy mix of coffee and Red Bull.

Occasionally, she would attempt to convince the brunette for her hat back, but even those attempts were futile and half-hearted. Her mind was still focused on the gallery exhibition and everything else came second. She tried compliments and pick-up lines, her usual go-to, but those didn’t quite seem to charm the girl the way Clarke had hoped. She refused to beg, but she did come pretty close this morning. _Almost_. But not yet. She couldn’t bend just yet.

From her small corner of the apartment, Clarke busies herself in the studio as she vaguely detects the sound of jingling car keys, signaling her roommate’s return. She pivots on her heels, palette still in hand, as she reaches out with her free hand to lock the door, knowing she's in for an earful in the brunette catches her skipping out on another meal.

“Clarke,” her roommate knocks, just as she has picked up her brush to resume her struggle. “Hey, yo, blondie!” She teases. “I know you're in there.” She raps her knuckles on the door.

Clarke keeps as quiet as she can, tiptoeing back to her canvas.

There's another harsher knock, and then a jiggle of the knob.

“Don't make me go in there.” Octavia warns, calling out from behind the wooden barrier. “Clarke Asswipe Griffin, come out!” She lectures.

“I already did. Four years ago.” She says snidely, ignoring the false middle-name her roommate had assigned her.

“This is not a closet.” She can practically hear the way her roommate is rolling her eyes, even from behind the door.

“And if it was, it would have possibly be easier than having to pick this lock again.” Octavia forewarned. She hears the click of the latch shortly follow. The door swings open with a bang and Clarke’s shoulders tense at the disturbing sound. She pauses the music playing on her laptop with a sigh, turning to her roommate. 

Octavia takes in the sight before her. The blonde is a mess, paint streaked through her hair and across various parts of her body. There are dark circles under her eyes and she honestly looks so worn, it's a wonder she’s still standing on her own.

“Clarke,” she cooes, pulling open the blinds.

The blonde squints, shielding her eyes. She blinks a few times as her dry eyes, now watering from the sensitivity to the newly illuminated room and lack of sleep, adjusts to the new atmosphere. She looks back at the blank white canvas and immediately regrets her decision as the sunlight reflects off the bright surface, burning her retinas.

“Damn it, O.” The blonde curses. “Now the lighting's all off.”

“You can deal with contrast later.” Her roommate chuckles lightly. “Food. Now.” She says sternly grabbing her by the wrist. She knows Octavia is simply being a good friend. But she wanted to focus on getting these paintings down, no matter how much of a road block shelf was having in the creativity department. If she focused on this, it would keep her mind from drifting back to…

She shakes her head. “I'm not hungry.” Clarke objects.

“Fine.” Octavia laments. “We don't need to get food. But you still need to get out of the apartment.” She lectures. “Look at you, you're practically molting.” She says as she picks a strand of oily hair between her fingers, rubbing the greasy on her shirt. She gestures up and down at Clarke, though her eyes are still kind. “Go shower and let's get you some fresh air.”

“Nooooo,” Clarke whines, stomping her foot.

Octavia huffs, pointing down the hall in the direction of the bathroom. “March.” She directs.

The blonde knows she's being stubborn and downright childish, but she was frustrated and angry and _hurt_. All of these emotions were hindering her from creating something beautiful. All of these emotions were preventing her from seeing lights and colors. All of this fucking emotions because of one _fucking_ _fuckboy_.

She mentally chides herself for letting Finn get under her skin yet again. It's not her fault though. This week marked the anniversary of her getting her heart broken. _Twice_ in one week. First with her father’s death. Second, with the end of her relationship. She has the right to be in a sour mood, Clarke justifies.

Octavia shakes her head at her stubbornness and settles herself in the corner as she looks through the unfinished works and drafted ideas scattered across the floor. She knows that means the brunette is willing to give her a few more minutes to wrap up at a stopping point. But Clarke spends the allotted minutes wrings her hands nervously as her roommate surveys her work.

“These are gonna be great, Clarke.” She encourages softly. “But don't you think maybe you should step away from them for a little? Come back in a bit and look at them from a new perspective.” She suggests carefully. It was something her father used to tell her when she got particularly hung up on a certain concept that she couldn't perfect.

Octavia gives her a gentle smile, typical teasing set aside for the moment. This was why they were best friends. Even at her worst, the brunette still knew what to say to get the blonde to clear her mind. She valued that in her roommate and her support was appreciated, even if Clarke didn’t always voice it out loud.

“What do you say, Clarkey?” Octavia offers. “Take a break?”

Clarke nods, setting down her brushes. “Just for tonight.” She concedes. “Then it’s back to work.”

The brunette nods in agreement, holding out a hand and Clarke pulls her up to stand. She starts putting away the art supply capping the bottles and rinsing brushes so that the blonde can go clean herself up.

“Thanks, O. “She says sincerely. “Really.” She brings the brunette into a hug and she gives her a tight squeeze.

“Don’t get mushy on me, Griffin.” Octavia rolls her eyes, pushing the blonde away, but Clarke can tell that she appreciates the sentiment. “Now get going.” She gives her a playful smack to the rear. “It’s Clock time!”

Clarke grimaces at the horrible combination of their names. She had come up with it during one of their very drunken stupors. They may be also been high. Clarke can’t really remember. She shakes her head with a chuckle as she makes her way down the hall, balling her shirt and tossing it into her room. It lands perfectly into her hamper along the way.

 _Still got it, Griffin._ She smirks to herself.

\---

_She definitely doesn’t have it._

She expects hiking.

She expects kayaking.

Hell, she even expects skydiving when it comes to Octavia.

What she _doesn't_ expect is Lexa Woods sitting in her living room with her snapback in her lap, hands crossed calmly as they rested beside her cap. She looks so small on the couch and Clarke takes a minute to observe her. Her hair is tussled over her shoulder, a simple white top and black skinny jeans adorn her curves, fitting perfectly over her delicate frame. Even with the monochromatic tones, all Clarke sees is color: specifically, forest green. Like fresh grass and towering trees.  Like the earth and clarity. She swallows. She shouldn't be thinking this much about an outfit. Clarke equates the lack of clarity to paint fumes and being trapped in the studio for too long. It's just Lexa. She reminds herself. _Another girl._

She stands straighter as she approaches, hands tucked into her back pockets.

“Hey, gorgeous.” She says as smoothly as she can with a casual head nod. Internally, the blonde is incredibly grateful for her roommate’s insistence that she take a shower and change. She’s rewarded when Lexa beams at her with sparkling green eyes.

_Nice job, Griffin._

Clarke feels herself smiling back, the stress from earlier easily forgotten.

“Hello, Clarke.” The brunette greets as she stands to meet her halfway across the room. “I hope it’s alright if I come along. Octavia invited me to hang out.” She says.

“You look nice.” Lexa compliments, holding out the cap, which Clarke takes gratefully. Her fingers brush against the brunette’s, eyes still locked on green. She feels a shiver up her spine. _That's not good._

“You mean not a sloppy drunken mess?” She deflects with a cheesy wink, tugging the accessory over her blonde waves.

“No.” Lexa chuckles kindly. “Just, you look _nice_.” She says simply. No banter, just a straightforward compliment. It takes Clarke by surprise. _Nope. This was definitely not good._

“Oh.” She rubs at the back of her neck. “Well, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She says, casually brushing her hair over her shoulder. Clarke immediately gets a whiff of dizzying perfume and her stomach does a dance.

 _What’s happening to you, Griffin? You need to get laid_. She scolds herself.

“So what were you thinking?” The brunette asks at Clarke’s dazed expression.

_Shit._

_So many things._

_Most of them inappropriate._

“Uhh… what do you mean?” Clarke cocks her head, a blonde tress falling over her eyes. She blows it out of the way with a curl of her lip and a puff of breath. Lexa gives her a look of, well, she can't quite place it. But in a flash, it's gone.

“What would you like to _do_?” She asks. “Octavia said you could pick the activity for the evening.” Lexa explains with a smirk.

Clarke’s mind immediately goes to the gutter and Lexa reads it as much. She bursts out laughing, throwing her head back as her eyes close.

“No threesomes.” Lexa reprimands, unfazed by the sexual suggestiveness.

“Life’s too short.” Clarke shrugs, trying to make light of the situation.

“It really is.” Lexa says somewhat solemnly. Something about the way she speaks the three words makes her wonder if Lexa understands. If she's seen loss too. Clarke tries to not imagine a frown on that breathtaking...

 _Whoa_.

She catches herself. Lexa was hot. But calling her breathtaking? That was not okay. She pushes it aside, crediting it to her aesthetics. _Yes. That's it. She's an artist. She can appreciate that. Lexa is aesthetic. That's. All._

“So what's the plan, ladies?” A third voice breaks the two out of their staring contest that Clarke hadn't even realized was occurring until she blinks.

“Uhh…” Clarke shrugs. “Whatever you guys want to do, I guess?”

“Aww come on, Clarke. That's not fun.” Octavia boos. “The sun’s shining. We have a whole afternoon and evening to us.” She opens her arms, gesturing grandiosely at the windows. “We could go hiking.” She smirks.

“No.” Clarke shoots down with the flat statement. She sees Lexa smiling smugly from her peripherals.

“Bikes?” Her roommate suggests.

“Nuh uh.” She shakes her head, rejecting her again.

“Fishing?” The brunette supplies and Clarke is pretty sure she said that line just to annoy her.

She scrunches up her nose, earning a laugh from Octavia and a stifled giggle from Lexa.

“Well for fuck sakes Clarke, then _you_ come up with something.” Her roommate says with a teasing groan.

She's about to object when Lexa steps in, interrupting their bickering with a sly grin.

“I think I might know something we can all do.” She says and Octavia grabs the keys, tossing them over to Lexa who catches them swiftly in one hand.

“Lead the way, Woods.”  She sweeps her hand towards the door.

\---

 _The Arkade._ The flimsy neon sign read. There’s a strand emblem next to the logo and Clarke can’t help but mental cringe at the horrendous choice of typeface and uneven kerning.

“Well, here we are.” Lexa grins, unbuckling her seatbelt. Clarke follows suit, climbing out of the backseat.

Neither Clarke nor Octavia had ever heard of the establishment, but Lexa seemed content in strolling straight through the doors of the complex.

The blonde doesn’t realize how huge the place is until she steps inside. Despite the outward appearance of the joint, it was actually pretty nice though the bland brick walls and flickering lighted sign made it appear like more of a dump than a game hall.

The Arkade, or The Ark, as Lexa called it, was like Chuckie E Cheese, but for adults. There were multiple bars lining the walls, arcade games, casino slots, a bowling alley, trampolines, air hockey and pool tables, a rock wall, and even a giant chess board with 3 feet tall pieces. There was a little bit of everything for everyone and Clarke gives an impressed whistle as she looks around. Amongst it all, the zig and buzz of multi-colored lights, Lexa stood in her black and white outfit, contrasting dramatically against the bright colors.

The blonde had never seen anything like it.

“So, where should we start?” The brunette inquires. Before she can answer, both girls find their wrists being tugged by an incredibly zealous Octavia.

“Well, rock climbing it is, I guess.” Lexa laughs and Clarke finds herself laughing along with her as they follow behind her roommate to the brightly colored equipment.

They attach themselves to the harnesses for a bit, but after less than half an hour, Clarke is already winded and excuses herself to grab a drink from the bar. She downs it quickly, revealing in the cold liquid making its way down her throat.

“She’s a firecracker, isn’t she?” An airy voice says from her side. She looks over to find Lexa standing to her left, rolling her wrist, massaging at the joint, wincing slightly.

“Octavia?” She chuckles, catching a glimpse of her roommate near the ceiling, a few more rocks away from ringing the bell hanging from a string on the roof. “Yeah. But I love her anyway.” She smirks. “Don’t tell her I said that though.” She whispers, leaning in.

Lexa returns with her own smile, leaning in as well. “Your secrets are safe with me.” She winks.

They’re standing unnecessarily close and Lexa’s eyes flit quickly down to Clarke’s lips, brow raised challengingly. It’s a silent game of chicken that Clarke refuses to lose. But then she notices that Lexa is still grasping at her wrists. 

You alright?” The blonde breaks eye contact, nodding her head down at the slender girl’s delicate appendage.

Lexa gives her a soft smile, though her teeth aren’t showing. “Of course.” She insists, though Clarke doesn’t quite believe it. “Just haven’t had to use my wrist like that in a while. I guess I’m out of practice.” She deflects, biting her tongue between her teeth.

_Fucking shit._

She knows Lexa’s toying with her now. Her suspicions are confirmed when Lexa quirks her brow purposefully _._

_The irony._

If only Octavia knew who really held all the cards.

“Yeah?” Is all the blonde manages to sputter, gesturing at the bartender for another cold beer.

Lexa snickers, brushing it off as if she hadn’t just made the most sexual reference of the night.

“Uhh…” Clarke looks around for some sort of distraction. “Want to play chess?” She asks dumbly. The blonde hadn’t played chess since she was in high school when she and her friend, Wells, would spend the afternoons competing round after round, trying to best the other in strategy and skill. The two had fallen out of touch after Clarke’s father died since Well’s father and Clarke’s father had been good friends.  The suggestion comes as a surprise even to Clarke herself. She didn’t expect to be so open to playing something that would remind her of memories of her father. But something about being with Lexa made it more bearable. Or maybe it was the small bit of alcohol and lack of sleep clouding her judgment.

The brunette looks somewhat astonished at the suggestion as well, no doubt taken aback by the choice of activity. Clarke simply gives her a confident smile.

Sure, Clarke Griffin could be a real idiot sometimes, but she was not a _dumb blonde._ And she was going to prove to Lexa that she was more than what she seemed.

Lexa nods glancing over her shoulder at Octavia, who was clearly content with entertaining herself while dangling multiple feet in the air. She gives the brunette a wave, waiting until she notices their departure and she gives them a quick “thumbs up” signal before continuing her upwards ascension.

“Sure. We could do that.” She indulges. After ordering a light ale for the brunette, the two make their way to the giant chess mat, setting their drinks on the side table as they set up the pieces. They stand around her waist and she can’t help but think of a miniature version of Wizard Chess.

“You’re a wizard, Harry.” Clarke says in her most posh British accent before she can stop herself.

_The hell, Griffin? That was so lame!_

Lexa raises a brow and the blonde blushes.

Clarke clears her throat. “Wanna see me work some magic?”  She says with a wiggle of her brow.

The brunette chuckles, shaking her head as her lips tilt to the side in a lively smirk.  

_Nice save, Clarke._

“So, white or black?” Lexa offers, waving her hand at the now prepared board.

Clarke looks over at girl’s outfit. _She really does look good in monochrome._

“Clarke?” The brunette giggles.

“Oh, right.” She shakes her head, “Uhh, you pick. Ladies first.” She says confidently, giving the yoga instructor an exaggerated up and down. “And you are most definitely a lady.” 

Lexa rolls her eyes with a light-hearted smile, walking across the room to take her place across the board from the blonde. “ _White_ goes first.” She gestures at Clarke and her rows of pieces.

Clarke loses the first two rounds. To be fair though, she _was_ rusty. And the loss during the second round was caused by the brunette and her stupidly perfect face. _It was distracting!_ The way her eyes would narrow and her lip would be stuck between her teeth as she thought through each move.

_Snap out of it, Griffin._

Somehow through the night, it became Clarke’s goal to try to make the brunette smile as many times as possible. She didn’t know how it happened, but the way that those green eyes illuminated, though most of the time suppressing her amusement, did funny things to the blonde. Funny, dangerous, and kinda fucking _wonderful_ things.

She finally wins the third round, but she has a feeling that Lexa may not have been giving it her all. Still, she takes the win, downing her beer as she settles in the lounge chairs next to the brunette.

“Where did you find this place, anyway?” Clarke asks, surveying their surroundings again. Octavia still hadn’t returned and Clarke wondered if she had purposely left them alone or if she really was that excited about the trampolines and whatnot. Honestly, with Octavia, it was a pretty even split.

“Anya and I used to come here a lot with my…” Lexa pauses. “Friend.” She finishes. She says it robotically, as though it had been rehearsed time and time again. And Clarke doesn't believe it. Mainly, the friend part but she hardly believes the Anya part too. It's hard to imagine the blonde in such an upbeat place. She pictures the blonde woman scowling at the bright colors, grumbling at the slot machines and the blinking lights.

Then again, she realizes, she doesn't know much about her. Or either of the Woods sisters, actually.

“So what’s your story, Lexa Woods?” She pries.

“It’s still being told.” The brunette replies vaguely with a shrug.

Clarke tilts her head, narrowing her eyes.

“What about you?” Lexa deflects before Clarke can ask any further questions. “What’s Clarke Griffin’s story?”

_Her story._

She had almost forgotten. She had been so distracted by Lexa that she actually forgot about the past; both scarring events pushed to the back of her mind for the first time that week. And she was smiling, she realized. _A lot._

_Maybe “not good” wasn’t really that bad._

“Hmm.” She taps her chin. “My story is a bit of a long one.” She says. “It might need some editing as well.” She smiles. She may not be ready to share everything with the brunette, but Lexa’s eyes are welcoming and genuinely attentive.

“I’ll get us some drinks.” The brunette offers, nodding over at Octavia who was in her own world doing flips on the trampolines. Lexa chuckles. “I think we pretty much have all night. Just start with chapter one.” She offers.

“So, when I was little, I pretty much looked like a cabbage patch doll…” She begins, laughing at herself. Lexa’s eyes glimmer with amusement as she leans in, propping her elbows on the table. So Clarke continues. 

Within the first ten minutes though, their drinks are long forgotten and Clarke finds herself drowning more in shades of green than alcohol. Her guard is down, but for once, she doesn’t feel that scared. In fact, she actually feels kind of comfortable.

\---

They shut the place down, only leaving when the manager actually comes to escort them out the door, pointing at the business hours sign hanging over glass doors of the entryway. It’s pouring outside and he all but shoves them out the door.

Lexa turns to give the man an apology and Clarke bats her eyes, hoping to alleviate some of the man’s anger while Octavia chugs the rest of both of their warm drinks, dehydrated from of the physical activity. The trio leaves giggling as they run, unprotected from the elements to Octavia’s car.

Lexa helps open the backdoor for the roommate as she crawls in, insisting that she’s too exhausted and just wants to sprawl out across the seats, allowing Clarke to take shotgun in the passenger seat.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?” Clarke offers. “You drove us here, but I think I can get us back.”

“No.” Lexa says almost too quickly. She wills herself to calm down. “No.” She repeats more levelly this time.  “I umm,” she looks down at the steering wheel. “I’d like to drive, if you don’t mind.”

The blonde studies her, and Lexa feels somewhat guilty under the girl’s blue eyed gaze. Clarke had just spent the last several hours telling her stories from her past, yet Lexa barely offered any of her own, and definitely none about Costia or the accident.

“Alright.” The blonde finally nods, taking her snapback off and placing it on Lexa’s with a smile. Something about this smile was different though. _Gentler. Kinder._

She waits patiently for each of the girls to buckle their seatbelts before resuming, putting the car into reverse as she backs out of the abandoned parking lot.

The drive back is spent in a comfortable silence. She can see Octavia fighting off sleep in the rearview mirror as her head bobs in the backseat while Clarke sits contently, watching the city lights pass by.

It’s kind of nice, but at the same time, terrifying.

When she finally arrives in front of the roommate’s apartment complex, she withdraws the keys from the ignition, handing them over to Clarke.

“Do you want to come up for a while?” The blonde asks in a tone that Lexa thinks is almost _shyly._ “Dry off at least?”

Octavia lets out a yawn, groggily coming back to the present, looking around with hooded eyes.

“We’re home, O.” Clarke says over her shoulder before turning her attention back to Lexa. “It’s late. And seriously, our couch is pretty comfy.” She offers.

“I’ll be okay.” Lexa shakes her head appreciatively. The timid glance had been very unlike-Clarke, and she was somewhat taken aback. Then again, a lot of things the blonde did tonight surprised her. What she says next, though, shocks her the most.

“Alright.” The blonde nods. “Text me when you get home?” She says as she opens the door. “Come on, O. Let’s get to bed.” She ushers. Clarke looks up, the rain had luckily stopped for the time being. “Before we get wet again.” She urges. She gives Lexa a wink before tugging the brunette from the car, no doubt insinuating another sexual joke.

“Goodnight, Clarke.” She rolls her eyes at the blonde who grins deviously.

Lexa fights back a smile, shaking her head. She extracts herself from the car as well, waiting for the blonde to lock all the doors before she takes a few steps toward her own vehicle.

“I had to leave you with one for the road.” She justifies calling over her shoulder and Lexa chuckles.

“Goodnight, Octavia.” The yoga instructor gives a wave to her student.

“Night, Lex!” Octavia returns. “Thanks for coming with us! Tonight was awesome! We’ll have to go back.”

“It really was.” Lexa agrees, though her eyes are focused on Clarke. “It definitely was.”

\---

When she gets back to her apartment it’s nearly three in the morning and she thanks the Gods that it’s the weekend and she gets to sleep in. She never held a Sunday morning yoga class because she figured most of her customers would want to attend church.

She strips out of her clothing, hoping into the shower, allowing herself to get warm again after sitting in her drenched attire for the latter part of the evening.

She finally crawls under her sheets, allowing herself to sink into the plush blankets, wrapping them tighter around her frame.

Just as she’s  about to fall asleep, she jolts awake from the sound of her phone vibrating on her nightstand. She lethargically reaches over, searching blindly until her fingers make contact with the electronic device. She unlocks the screen, squinting at the word that appear.

_O told me it was your idea to invite me to your girl’s night. You didn’t have to do that._

_No prob. Thanks for coming w._

She taps out lazily, eyes fighting against the brightness of the screen. Her fingers are sluggish and slow as she wills her brain to finish typing, pressing the send button.

_I should be thanking YOU. I think I finally got the perfect idea for the gallery._

_:)_ Is all she can muster the strength to respond back before she feels her eyes closing. If she hadn’t fallen asleep, she would have looked to see that the next text Clarke sent her was actually an invitation.

_You’ll have to come by and see it if you’re free. The exhibition is in two weeks._

Almost an hour later, her phone buzzes again. But Lexa is already too far into dreaming to realize it.

_Be my date to the show?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know. This chapter just turned into this giant THING. I hope it's okay. I'm jetlagged. Suggestions/comments please. :)


	7. Thinking Highly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Clarke start to spend time together alone. It's lit. Literally.

_“You have got to stop working these late hours.” A voice startles her and she jolts up. There’s a soft puff of air that escapes the woman as she stalks towards her with a scowl across her face and stern look._

_Lexa blinks, realizing that she had dozed off waiting for her report to run and was still at the office. She taps her phone ones and checks the time: 11:48pm. She also notices how many missed calls and texts she has. She skipped dinner and her girlfriend had probably come looking for her after her lack of response._

_“I’m sorry.” She apologizes and the stern look across her girlfriend’s features falls away._

_“Lexa,” Costia lectures. “A normal work day is 9 to 5. 8 to 6 if you really have to. But this is just ridiculous.” she says, her voice more filled with concerned than angry._

_“I’m sorry, Cos. I just… lost track of time.” She explains to the woman, who was now standing across from her desk with her arms crossed over her chest. Even though Lexa was sitting in the office chair, it felt more like Costia was in charge at the moment._

_“I just have so much to do.” The brunette admits, gaze falling to stare at the piles of paperwork on the wooden surface. It seemed as though her “To Do” pile never stopped growing but her “Done” pile never did._

_“I know you do.” Her girlfriend’s eyes soften as she lets her arms fall to her sides with a sigh. “And I appreciate how hard you work, everybody does, but this isn’t healthy.” She consoles as she comes to the brunette’s side, tugging her gently out of her seat._

_“Come on, we can’t have you falling asleep at your desk anymore.” She urges, pressing the power button to turn off the monitor. “Call it a night.” She ushers with a peck on the brunette’s lips. “Let’s get you home.”_

_“But my car…” Lexa realizes that it’s still sitting in the parking lot, now with Costia’s parked in the space next to it. A small dusting of white had coated the ground, the brunette notices after they step outside._

_“I’ll drive you back in the morning.” Her girlfriend promises, cutting her off. She laces their fingers together as they exit the building. Lexa locks the door before following Costia to her car._

_“I can drive myself if…”  She tries to offer, knowing how much Costia hated driving in the snow._

_“No. You’re too tired.” Costia shakes her head. “And I just really want to get home.” She confesses. “All these late nights and early mornings have been cutting into our cuddle time.” She says playfully, but there’s a hint of sadness in her words. It’s true. Lexa had been staying later and later at the office, leaving earlier to try and get as much work covered as she could. Costia had always been understanding of the fact that Lexa was a dedicated worker and highly successful businesswoman. She knew it wasn’t personal, but still, she was only human. She craved the contact the brunette could offer her, the strong arms that would wrap around her, keeping her safe in the darkness._

_Lexa nods, taking her girlfriend’s hand in hers across the console as she kisses the back of her knuckles. “I’m sorry, love.” She says earnestly. “I will be better.” She promises._

_“It’s okay.” Costia assuages, as they pull out of the parking lot and turn onto the street. “You can make it up to me later.” She says with smirk and Lexa’s guilt subsides, relaxing with the gentle brush of Costia’s thumb against her own. Her eyes drift closed again as she feels herself start to doze off._

_She awakens when her body is thrust forward, breaks squeal to a halt as the metal caves in. Even through the panic, it’s a sound that Lexa knows will haunt her forever. Her arm shoots out instinctively as she tries to safeguard her girlfriend from flying forward. She had always been protective of her girlfriend, but despite her efforts, this was something she couldn’t save her from._

_She feels the airbag collide against her face and chest, effectively knocking the wind out of her as the other vehicle slams into them. Her wrist throbs as it falls into Costia’s lap._

_“Cos?” She asks, shaking her girlfriend’s limp body._

_“Costia!” She cries, alarmed. She frantically releases her seatbelt, checking her girlfriend’s. She had been too eager to get them home that she hadn’t put her own on. Lexa’s head spins when she adjusts the woman’s body, watching a trail of blood fall from where her head was now lulled to the side._

_Her heart, her head, her wrist... everything aches._

The brunette rolls out of bed the following morning with sleep in her eyes and a dull throbbing in her wrist. She rubs at both, brushing the remnants away with a yawn before carefully rotating the irritated joint a few times until it cracks with a small pop. Usually that was enough to alleviate the soreness, but after straining it on the rock wall, it was still causing her minor discomfort. With a sigh, she pads to the kitchen, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer and wrapping it in a soft cloth, placing it on the tender spot. The second the coolness comes in contact with her skin, she deflates, pain exponentially relieved.

 She takes a seat at the island after toasting herself two slices of bread, buttering them slightly. After eating the light breakfast, she retrieves a few fruits from the bowl placed neatly on the kitchen table, tossing them into the blender with a cupful of crushed ice. The smoothie goes down easily and she settles herself on the couch, flicking on the television, fully intent on spending her day off completely relaxing without a care on the world.

 Last night was interesting to say the least. She had expected to spend the majority of her time feeling like a third wheel between the two roommates, but instead, found herself spending almost the entire night with Clarke, while her roommate ran off in wonder, bouncing from activity to activity. It had been fun and she was surprised to find that the blonde was actually quite good company when she wasn’t relying on obvious pick-up lines or ridiculous antics. She liked when the blonde acted as herself, not the “cool, aloof” image she tried so hard to put out.

Her thoughts are interrupted when the door jiggles open, startling the brunette who was unsuspecting of her visitor.

 “Anya?” She sits up. “What are you doing here?” She asks the woman who had since barreled in through her apartment door.

 “I texted you this morning telling you I was coming over.” Her sister waves off with a hand.

 “Oh.” She nods. She had drifted asleep with her phone in hand. It must have fallen out of her grasp at some point in the night and she had forgotten all about it.

 “You always were shit at texting.” Anya teases, reading her mind. It’s all in playful jest, but Lexa still blushes in embarrassment and a bit of guilt. She realizes she also forgot to text Clarke back when she had gotten home last night. She makes a mental note to be better, something she felt was becoming a horrible habit. But right now, she’s just happy to be hearing from her sister.

 “I’m glad to see you.” She smiles genuinely at the older woman. “How’ve you been?”

 “Good.” Her sister replies with a tilt of her lips. Lexa can tell that she’s being honest and she pats the place on the couch with her unwrapped hand, signaling for her sister to join her.

 The blonde finally notices Lexa icing her wrist, and the brunette tries to hide it, stuffing her injured limb under one of the couch pillows sheepishly. It’s so obviously ineffective and the blonde continues to eye the cushion until Lexa sighs, forcing her wrist out into the open again, adjusting the icepack that had slipped in the process.

“You okay?” Anya asks cautiously.

“Yeah.” Lexa nods. “I uhh… I went to the Ark.” She admits.

“Really?” The other woman’s eyes widen. “With who?”

“Octavia and Clarke.” The brunette says as evenly as she can.

“Oh.” Is her sister’s only response as she sinks into the couch and Lexa watches as the memories start to flash behind her brown eyes. Costia was the one who had initially introduced the sisters to the establishment in the first place. Her free spirit had taken them on a detoured adventure after a night out at dinner.

_Lexa had been particularly stressed about a product campaign that was coming up at work and her girlfriend had treated her and her sister to dinner, taking them out for the night to prevent the brunette from sneaking back to the office after the meal had concluded._

_“Go left here.” Her girlfriend instructs from the passenger seat._

_“Cos, do you even know where we’re going?” Lexa asks, one eye carefully watching her sister int eh backseat. The blonde was sitting with her arms crossed, glaring out the window  the unfamiliar surroundings. Lexa feels sorry for her._

_Her girlfriend simply smiles. “Do you trust me?”_

_“Of course.”_

_Anya makes a gagging sound in the back seat._

_“Maybe take a right …” Her girlfriend debates. “Let’s say two more lights?”_

_“Maybe?” Anya picks up on the vague detail. “What do you mean by ‘maybe’?” She asks. “Where are we going?”_

_“I don’t know.” Her girlfriend says sheepishly, turning to the blonde behind her. “But it’s kind of fun, right?”_

_“What?!” Lexa’s eyes widen. ”Cos!” The brunette jerks on the breaks. She had to side with her sister on this one. This is kind of crazy._

_But her girlfriend’s hand goes to her thigh, rubbing comfortingly. “Oh!” She squeezes her knee. “Stop! Pull in over there.” She points with her free hand down about a block away at a rundown looking warehouse-like place._

_Arkade. It reads with a dizzying sign._

_“Cos…” Lexa hesitantly tugs back her girlfriend back by the wrist as she tries to climb out of the car._

_“Trust me.” Costia encourages._

_“Okay.” Lexa obliges._

_“Doesn’t mean I have to.” Anya says, more guarded than her younger sister._

_They walk inside. It’s incredible._

_“This actually looks pretty fun.” Lexa has to admit._

_“It will be.” Costia assures with a purr in her ear before looking at Anya. “What do you think?” She asks. “Do I have the older Wood’s approval?” She smiles openly at Anya._

_“Maybe.” The blonde fights back her own smile. “Ask me after a couple of drinks.”_

_“_ We would have invited you too but…” Lexa tries to say, but Anya simply holds up her hand, stopping her from continuing any further.

“It’s okay.” The older woman cuts off. “I’m sorry for being so M.I.A.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Lexa assuages, voicing her understanding. “It’s not like I haven’t done the same thing to you.” She says guiltily.

“True.” Her sister says with reluctance in her tone.

“So you’re okay now?” The brunette inquires.

“Yeah.” Anya nods.

“And Roan?” Lexa prompts carefully.

 “Still my boyfriend.” She admits. “My fiancé, actually.” She tacks on. Anya’s face splits into the sheepish of grins as the younger sibling’s eyes widen.

“I’m so happy for you!” Lexa beams, launching herself at her sister for a huge hug, irritated wrist completely forgotten. Anya laughs, wrapping her arms around her in return as Lexa purposely squeezes her frame tighter.

“Okay. okay.” Her sister grumbles after having had enough of physical contact. “Get off.” She pries Lexa’s arms off of her, though she still laughing.

“You’re getting married!” The brunette says breathlessly, the realization finally setting in. “Holy shit. My sister is getting married!”

“I know.” Anya rolls her eyes playfully. “That’s why I came actually. It’s gonna be crazy and a huge fucking time crunch, but,” She pauses, turning to face her younger sister. “Lex, will you be my maid of Honor?” She requests.

“Yes!” The brunette says pure elation. “Of course!” She almost goes in for another hug, but Anya scrunches up her nose and Lexa just falls into the couch instead, cuddling a pillow to her chest, squeezing in to expend the joy bubbling in her chest.

“Dork.” The blonde teases, tossing the other pillow at her. Lexa head butts it and lets it fall at her feet.

“This calls for a celebration!” She announces. “Let me take you to lunch.” She pauses to look at the time. “Or brunch.”

“You sure your wrist is okay?” Her sister asks, back to being her protective self.

“I’m running on adrenaline right now, An.” Lexa chuckles. “I’m fine! Let me change and grab my phone.”

Her sister nods, making herself comfortable on the couch as she waits.

She skids back to the bedroom, tossing on a casual pair of denim shorts and placing an oversized tee over her head. When she goes to find her phone, she realizes that she has two text messages. One from Anya, as expected. But there’s another one from Clarke.

She hits open.

She quirks a brow at the message as she walks back to the living area where her expecting sister awaits.

Anya is sitting in a daze with a dopey smile on her face while she eyes the ring on her hand with affection, a rare sight to see. She takes her phone out, snapping a picture of her sister just before the blonde notices her presence.

Anya really _was_ happy with Roan and Lexa is grateful that he came into their lives when he did. Anya had always been so mature and serious. Even as a girl, her sister had always been incredibly self-sacrificing. It was nice to see her just like this; genuinely at ease, happy, safe, and taken care of. Roan was good for her and they were even better together.

When she closes the camera app, she sees the text in her inbox still waiting for a response and read it again, confusion etched on her features.

“What’s with that face?” Anya asks, pointing at the brunette and Lexa looks up.

“Uhh,” Lexa hesitates before reading the series of texts out loud, aware of how her sister may react.

Lexa watches as Anya processes each messages with an unreadable expression.

 _Be my date to the show?_ She recites the last text.

 The blonde sits, thinking carefully.

“An?” Lexa asks hesitantly.

“Say yes.” Her sister finally says.

“What? Really?” Lexa is taken aback.

“Why not?” Anya encourages, still too happy to be her usual grumpy, cynical self. It probably has to do with Roan. Lexa’s 100% sure of it.

“Okay.” She smiles, typing back a quick response before slipping the device in her back pocket.

“Come on, we have a stack of pancakes waiting for us.” Anya says knowingly.

“Anyaaah” Lexa cups her hands around her mouth. “Lexaaah” she says breathily before smiling playfully. “Hey An, I think I can hear them calling our name.” She laughs and Anya rolls her eyes.

“Let’s go, loser.” She rolls her eyes as Lexa skips out the door after her sister. 

 ---

Having the ability to manage her own schedule does have its perks. And now that the majority of her work for the gallery exhibit was complete, Clarke found herself having a lot more free time. Free time, that she was now spending with Lexa.

Since the brunette also had different working hours than the normal 9 to 5, it made it easier for the two to meet up during the day in relatively empty places.

The first time they hung out, the blonde realized she had been trying too hard. But she was getting better at it, if Lexa’s laughter was any indication. As a result, Clarke lets herself go a bit more too.

“I originally wanted to go into international business marketing.” The brunette explains, sitting with her legs tucked underneath her as she sat across from the blonde in her bedroom. Clarke was still getting around to cleaning the place up, but it was definitely a step up from the last time Lexa had witness the room. It had looked like a tornado blew through it.

“But?” Clarke asks, taking a bite of her cold Spaghetti-O’s, grinning playfully ash she sees Lexa quirk a brow at her strange eating habits. She rather own challengingly and Lexa laughs. Clarke _really_ likes that sound.

She knows what’s going on and she keeps trying to stop it but with every smile, every teasing grin, or bat of those long lashes, Clarke feels herself falling deeper into a very dangerous rabbit hole.

_You’re so fucked, Griffin._

“But what?” Lexa asks with a tilt of her head. Clarke _knows_ there was a _but_ in there, the way the light in those green orbs dim slightly at the confession. She decides not to push it. Probably better that way anyway. Who needs trust and understanding anyway?

“Nevermind.” Clarke shrugs off. “Wanna try some?” She offers playfully, holding out another large scoop of the processed food. She wiggles her eyebrows, knowing full well that Lexa is going to say ‘no.’

 “I think I’m going to pass.” The brunette chuckles, shaking her head.

“Good.” Clarke beams, tilting her chin up. “More for me.”

Lexa rolls her eyes lightly, releasing a puff of air from her nose. Her gaze goes to the closet where the blonde’s longboard rests propped against the back wall.

“Let’s get out of here.” Clarke suggests. Being cooped up in her apartment was starting to grow old, honestly.

“Like where?” Lexa asks, eyes still on the skateboard.

“Wanna go for a ride?” Clarke asks, noticing how enamored the brunette seemed with the board.

Lexa smirks devilishly and when the blonde finally registers the innuendo, Clarke turns bright red and Lexa throws her head back, bursting into laughter.

“Oh my God.” Clarke groans. That’s another thing she found herself doing a lot. Lexa Woods had game, Clarke could admit that much. What she didn’t want to admit was that Lexa was also really good at embarrassing the shit out of her.

“I’d love to.” Lex continues to laugh as the blush subsides in Clarke’s cheeks.

“Alright cool.” The blonde tugs a knit beanie over her head. “I’ve gotta change first.” She says and Lexa simply sits in place waiting expectantly with a grin. Clarke fails at trying to hide her embarrassment.

Lexa is _still_ giggling at her.

“Get outta here.” Clarke teases, tossing the beanie at the brunette who scampers out of the room, waiting for the blonde to change.

“Shit.” She mutters to herself.

“You okay?” She hears Lexa just outside the door.

“Yeah, I just…”

“Hey.” Lexa pops her head back in, brown hair cascading over her shoulder as she does. Clarke does her best not too look at the gentle curve of her neck and prominent collarbones. She fails, obviously.

“Uhh, need underwear.” She says stupidly, head tilting towards the hamper.

 “Go Commando.” Lexa shrugs, eyeing Clarke’s shorts.

Clarke feels her face heat up again, wanting to cover herself up under the scrutinizing gaze.

“They’re basketball shorts.” The brunette clarifies, a look of amusement playing upon her features at the blonde’s blush. “No one will know the difference. I do it when I work out sometimes. Better flexibility anyway.” She defends.

The artist’s mind immediately pictures the brunette in a very comprising position, legs spread demonstrating just how flexible she could be. Clarke is 1000% sure Lexa’s doing this to kill her.

“Uhh, okay.” She swallows. “I guess I’m ready then.”

“Come on, Commander.” Lexa jokes, playing upon the slang term.

“That suits _you_ better.” Clarke objects.

“Oh?” The brunette raises her eyebrow slightly. “How so?”

“I’m _clearly_ all over the place and you’re so in control with all your shit together.” Clarke explains, taking a jab at herself.

It’s meant to be a compliment to Lexa but the yoga instructor is looking back at her with the strangest expressions. Clarke almost feels like she said something wrong and she shrinks under the intense emerald gaze.

“Come on, _you_.” Lexa finally breaks eye contact, changing her wording. “Let’s go.”

Clarke nods, ignoring the strange event, grabbing the skateboard as she tugs the brunette towards the door.

When they get to the skate park, Clarke sets Lexa up on the board to teach her the basics; going forward and stopping. She demonstrates for the yoga instructor twice, before the brunette insists she’s got it.

Lexa’s a natural.

Why isn’t she surprised? The green-eyed girl was probably also a secret genius like Raven too, good at everything. Clarke wonders if that’s how she knows Raven in the first place. Maybe they discuss quantum physics together. Lexa seems like the type.

They skate for a half hour, Clarke teaching Lexa a few more complicated turns and tricks, which the blonde picks all too easily.

Clarke had never seen anything more attractive than the gorgeous brunette gliding along on her board.

From the corner of her eye, she seems a grungy boy with greasy hair approach the two, grasping at his coat with a shifty grin.

Clarke turns her attention to Lexa to see if she had noticed the boy. Luckily, she was too distracted with trying to get the board to swerve into a sharp right to notice, feet balanced precariously on the wooden surface.

“Not right now.” Clarke hisses when he gets closer but Murphy ignores her, now eyeing the brunette, trailing his eyes up the girl’s sculpted legs. Something about it makes Clarke incredibly protective.

“Not now.” She says again, more firmly this time, stepping between him and Lexa, but he continues to look past her, smiling widely. Clarke turns to see that Lexa has stopped skating all together and was now watching them as the dealer trying to encourage her to make a transaction.

Instead of judgment, though, Clarke is surprised when the brunette hands him a $20.

“What are you doing?” Blue eyes widen.

“Finding out what you’re like when you’re high.” Green eyes return.

_Fuck. This woman was perfect._

Murphy holds out a rolled blunt and a lighter. Lexa takes it, holding the tip to the flame.

“Hey, wait.” Clarke still manages the slightest bit of common sense, grabbing the brunette’s wrist.

“Hmm?” Lexa quirks her brow.

Clarke nods her chin in the direction of the “No Smoking” sign, thinking as quickly as she can, replying back with the first pick-up line that she can muster up.

“I’m going to escort you out of the no smoking zone because _you_ are smoking hot."

Murphy snorts next to her, rolling his eyes before pocketing the cash.

Lexa just chuckles. "Lead the way." She says lightheartedly.

The blonde tugs them away towards the parking lot. She debates on whether or not to take Lexa to the specific location she had in mind. The brunette already has her keys ready to unlock the door.

 _Fuck it._ She gives in.

“So,” Clarke stops, shutting the door, refusing to get into the vehicle. “I have a place we can go. It’s about two or three blocks from here.” She explains. “Do you want to just walk instead?”

Lexa’s clearly surprised.

“Sure. Uhh, do _you_?”

“I’m not that lazy.” Clarke defends, though she knows it’s a complete lie. The brunette’s lips just tilt to the side. She doesn’t voice her opinion, but the twinkle in her eye gives it away.

“Alright.” Clarke rolls her eyes in fake offense. “Let’s go.”

They arrive at the small community park and the blonde immediately takes the brunette through the brush and trees lining the area to the secluded playground, old and forgotten when the township decided to expand on the area.

The jungle gym had been overlooked after the new play area had been built, but the neighborhood decided not to demolish it. Clarke could appreciate that. It added character.

“I find it’s usually quiet here.” The blonde divulges as she takes a seat on the swing. “Good place to clear your head.” She confesses, producing a lighter and handing it over to the brunette.

She takes a hit, holding her breath for a moment before releasing. Slender fingers then extend toward her and Clarke takes the blunt, smiling kindly.

Before long, she’s starting to feel incredibly light and she lets her body slump forward, slipping from her position on the swing to land on the ground.

“Oops. I fell for you.” Clarke says slyly, lying on her back, hair knotted with the tanbark. Lexa joins her a second later, neither of them caring about the lack of sanitation.

Lexa is giggling as Clarke tugs at her the brunette’s long fingers, counting them over and over again.

“Fifty seven.” She announces. “You have fifty seven fingers, Ms. Woods.” Lexa laughs even harder and Clarke shoots her a toothy grin, paired with heavy eyes.

“You have a nice laugh.” She comments and Lexa buries her face in her hands.

“No.” Clarke grabs at her, aim faltering as she tries to pull her hands away. “No, no!” She urges. “Don’t hide your eyes. They’re nice too!” She says.

Lexa lets them fall.

“You’re actually looking at my eyes instead of my chest for once!” The brunette grins, clapping her hands.

“I only look at your tits because your eyes are too distracting.” The blonde defends.

“Says you.” Lexa counters. “You’re the one with distracting eyes!”

“I’m sorry.” The blonde apologizes, state-of-mind muddled to the point that she can no longer comprehend that her genetics are not something to be sorry for. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She repeats over and over again.

Lexa simply grins at her apologies. “It’s okay.” She smiles, bumping shoulders with the blonde at her side.

They sit in silence, the effects of the drug still strong in their system.

“No really.” Clarke speaks after the long pause. “I really am sorry. Women deserve to be respected and treated fairly. They shouldn’t be objectified or only regarded for their bodies. I partially blame the media. Sex sells. And women are put on display to help sell products. But it gets to the point where you don’t even remember what they’re trying to sell you. You just remember the girls.” She rambles. “Especially the really hot girls like you.” She tacks on.

Lexa turns her head, biting on the blonde’s shoulder with a laugh.

“Seriously, you’re gorgeous.” Clarke continues, completely unfazed. “And you’re probably used to being stared at. It’s a real shame for the guys out there, ya know? You being a lesbian and all.” She stares hard at the brunette, focusing on her features, zeroing in on plump lips.

“You know, guys can be such pigs sometimes.” She transitions. “Sometimes it’s really shattering to see how women are treated by them, abusive relationships, harassment, cat calling…” She lists. “Have some respect. Like… You were put on this earth because of one. Why are you like this?” She rants, waving her hand animatedly.

“Like the female body is just… breathtaking.” She pauses. “Breathtaking.” Clarke repeats. “I love nudes of them because of the way they look. They’re so much softer and so curved and they just look so gentle and nice to touch, unlike men who are kind of hard and tough and sometimes even a little scary. But women, they’re different. They’re warm like a mother, and soft like a lover. Just _beautiful_.” She continues babbling, and it probably sounds nonsensical at this point.

“Clarke?” Lexa cups the blonde’s face, smoothing her hair sloppily.

“Sorry. I went out on a tangent, didn’t I?” The blonde chuckles. “I’m silly.”

“No.” Lexa shakes her head.

“I usually come here to clear my head, but apparently my brain has a lot of thoughts today.” She jokes.

Lexa shakes her head. “Don’t clear your head.” She instructs. “You have a beautiful mind in there.”

Even through her buzz, Clarke blushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's the pacing? Good? Bad? Please let me know what you think of the plot. 
> 
> Note, I've never actually smoked pot so I have zero idea as to how accurate their reactions are. That said, I hope you still liked the chapter. 
> 
> Sorry it's taken so long to update. I've been focused on Entwined. Please check it out if you haven't!


	8. Going Down With A Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa hit a bit of a bump. (Clarke gets hit in more ways than one.)

“Hey, O.” Clarke greets after returning the next evening. The apartment is relatively clean, air much more breathable now that the blonde had shifted her supplies and art pieces from the studio to the gallery. That, and the fact that she finally got rid of all the old burrito wrappers and take out containers that she had accumulated during her all-nighters.

Her roommate gives her a wave, as she enters the apartment.

“Where’d you go?” The brunette asks with a teasing grin. “Where you out with Lexa again?” She wiggles a brow. Ever since the two had started hanging out on their own, Octavia had gotten the bright idea to bring up the yoga instructor at every chance possible, loving how Clarke would get defensive about their friendship.

“No.” The blonde grumbles. “I was at the gallery setting up my exhibit, thank you very much.” She tilts her chin up defiantly, crossing her arms before plopping down on the couch.

“I was just asking.” Octavia chuckles. “No need to get so touchy.” She pats the skater’s knee gently.

“Sorry, I guess I’m still a little stressed about the show.” Clarke shrugs.

“It’s gonna be awesome.” Her roommate assures, taking a handful of popcorn before passing the bowl over to the blonde. 

“You haven’t even seen the finished ones yet.” Clarke snorts.

“Yeah, but I know you.” Octavia insists. “Not that your ego needs any more stroking,” She jabs, playfully. Clarke responds with a raise of her middle finger, but the brunette continues disregarding the gesture. “But you’re really talented. They’re gonna do great. I have no doubt that every single one of your pieces is gonna have an offer by the end of the night.” She says supportively.

“Thanks, O.” The blonde replies with a genuine smile.

“No problem.” The brunette beams. “Now, back to important matters.” She fights back a smirk. Clarke rolls her eyes knowing that the brunette is loving every second of this.

_Here we go._

“You and Lexa have been hanging out a lot lately.” She says knowingly.

_There it is._

 “We have.” The blonde nods, keeping her voice as neutral as she can.

“And how’s that going?” She prompts. Clarke knows what the brunette is trying to hint at. She repositions the bowl of popcorn in her lap to allow the brunette access to the snack, head facing forward as she concentrates on the random MTV rerun playing on the television in front of them.

 “Fine.” The blonde replies back casually. “We’re going for a run tomorrow.” She says carefully, eyes flitting over to the brunette to gage her reaction.

“You?” Octavia’s eyebrows raise comically. “You, Clarke Griffin, are _willingly_ going for a run?”

“Is it really that hard to believe?” The artist tries to defend.

“Yes.” Her roommate deadpans. “It absolutely is.”

“Bitch.” Clarke rolls her eyes, chucking a piece popcorn at the brunette. Octavia catches it in her mouth with ease.

“Show off.” Clarke mutters when the brunette smiles triumphantly.

Her roommate continues to stare at her, knowing just how to get the blonde to crack. Being best friends since childhood had that unfortunate advantage.

Clarke sighs, giving in with a defeated look.

“I asked her to be my date to the gallery showcase.” The artist divulges.

She can see the surprise on Octavia’s face at the confession.

“Wow.” The brunette replies, pursing her lips with a solid nod. “That’s awesome.” She says, genuinely.

“Yeah.” Clarke shrugs, trying to play it cool. “She’s pretty chill.”

“You sure that’s it?” Octavia nudges her in the side. Clarke jumps, the brunette’s elbow hitting the spot around her ribs that causes her insides to bubble. Her roommate laughs and Clarke isn’t sure if it’s just because she’s ticklish, or because she was now blushing. Probably both, but mostly the latter.

“Shut up.” The blonde grumbles. “Just friends, per _your_ request.”

“I never said that.” Octavia holds her hands up in defense. “I just said don’t fuck with her.”

Blue eyes roll hard in the back of her head. “I’m not.” Clarke argues.

“I can see that.” Octavia smiles with an approving nod. “So, you’re _really_ going running tomorrow?”

Clarke nods. “We’re meeting up for breakfast first, but yeah, after that.” She explains.

“Damn.” Octavia jests. “U-hauling already? And I thought Lexa was the lesbian.”

“I really hate you.” Clarke takes an entire fistful of popcorn, tossing it at the brunette. Her roommate still manages to catch a few in her mouth.

Octavia chews the pieces, swallowing before she continues. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“No, O! I’m not U-hauling. The fuck?” Clarke pouts while her roommate doubles over in laughter, practically crying.

“Fuck you.” The blonde grumbles.

“No thanks.” Octavia continues through her tears, tossing a handful of popcorn back at the blonde in retaliation, throwing in another jab. “ I’ll pass.”

They land in Clarke’s tussled blonde waves. She picks a piece out, popping it into her mouth before flicking a second back at the brunette. “Literally the worst.”

\---

Lexa sits at the café they agreed to meet at, green tea in hand, and a book in the other. Her phone is hooked up to her earbuds, music playing in the background to drown out the sound of the espresso machines and general bustle of the customers entering and exiting the small establishment.

She feels a tap on her shoulder and the wire against it wiggles. She looks up to see the blonde, snapback perched on her head, LA Lakers jersey adoring her feminine curves, and pair of basketball shorts hangs loosely over her hips. Even in such simple attire, Lexa can’t deny that Clarke looks extremely attractive.

The brunette slides over so that the blonde has enough room to sit down and join her, hand still hovering over the earpiece. Lexa nods and petite fingers remove the bud from her ear, bringing it past blonde curls.

She smirks, gaging the artist’s reaction as the lyrics play in her own ear.

_Bounce like yo ass had the hiccups._

Clarke bursts out laughing. It’s raspy and full of life. Lexa finds herself smiling back.

“Well, I definitely wasn’t expecting that.” Her husky voice says, passing back the device. Lexa takes a moment to switch off the music, coiling the wire around her phone as she shuts her book, dog-earing the page to keep her place.

The blonde eyes the title with a quirk of a brow.

“ _A Tale of Two Cities_ and Timbaland.”  She says with a look of amusement. “Strange combination.”

“Indeed.” Lexa grins, rather than feel any embarrassment because Clarke’s laugh is really just so lovely.

“It kind of works though.” The blonde shrugs.

“Kind of.” Lexa nods in agreement. Somehow, she doesn’t think they’re talking about the book and music anymore. Their eyes meet in a gentle hold, only breaking  away when a clearing of a throat causes them to jump apart.

_Had they always been sitting this close?_

“So what are we having, ladies?” The waiter asks.

“You mean besides a moment?” The blonde answers smoothly, shooting Lexa a playful grin. Leave it to Clarke to make the poor teenage waiter shuffle anxiously, hands gripping his notepad and pen like a vice.

“I’ll take the strawberry pancakes.” Lexa intervenes, coming to the boy’s rescue. He nods, scribbling her order down before turning to the blonde.

“And you?” He asks. Lexa watches as sharp blue eyes dart over the menu before looking up, beaming at the young waiter.

“Hit me with a coke and an omelet.”  The blonde smiles, leaning her chin into the palm of her hand.

“Wh-what would you like in your omelet?” The boy stutters.

The blonde smirks devilishly at Lexa before turning back to their server.

“Surprise me.” Clarke gives Lexa a wink. “Lately, I’ve been finding them to be pretty entertaining.” She says coyly and the brunette can no longer resist the urge to rolls her eyes in amusement.

“Uhh, alright. I’ll be right back with your coke.” The boy says before scampering off.

“You’re really terrible, you know that?” The brunette scolds, hiding her smile.

“I know.” The blonde beams, completely unaffected by the insult. The brunette just shakes her head with a chuckle.

“Hey,” Clarke shrugs. “I’m just returning the favor after Five Guys. I had to do something to get the kid to leave.”

“He was doing his job.” Lexa objects.

“His job description doesn’t include gawking, does it?” Clarke tilts her brow to prove a point.

“He wasn’t gawking.” Lexa defends. “He was being attentive.”

“No offense Lexa, but you’re pretty bad at telling if someone finds you attractive.” The blonde says.

Green eyes shoot up in surprise.

“Uhh,” The blonde clears her throat. “What I mean is, you only have gaydar. I on the other hand, have bi-dar. I think my intuition is gonna be better than yours on this.”

“Bi-dar?” Lexa feels her lips tug to the side. “Really, Clarke?”

“Can you come up with something better?” The artist counters.

Lexa laughs. “No, probably not. But it still sounds ridiculous. It sounds like biter.”

“Who knows?” The blonde wiggles her brows exaggeratedly. “Maybe I _am_ a biter.”

The yoga instructor rolls her eyes. “You really _are_ terrible.”

“So I’ve been told.” The blonde grins.

The conversation ends just in time for the waiter to return with Clarke’s drink and two plates of food.

Observing Clarke Griffin’s eating habits had become a new source of entertainment for Lexa. The blonde was constantly dousing her food with strange condiments and additions. She always insists that it tastes good, offering Lexa a bite but the brunette shakes her head every time, taking her word for it.

When they’re finished with their meal, they split the check before heading over to the brunette’s car to drop off their belongings.

The “run” they had planned turns into more of a walk after the first block. But Lexa didn’t mind. She really didn’t mind what they were doing, she simply liked being around Clarke. It was nice to have a friend again that she felt she could be herself around, even if she still kept some of the skeletons in her closet hidden away for the time being. It was a start, and besides, it kind of worked, right?

\---

That’s how it goes for the next week and a half; the two girls meeting up almost daily to simply enjoy each other’s company. Before she knows it, the two weeks had passed and the evening of the gallery exhibition sneaks up on her.

When the brunette arrives at the artist’s apartment, the place is in a state of absolute chaos.

“Oh thank God!” She hears her roommate says exasperated, accompanied by the sound of the door opening for Lexa to come inside. “She’s in there.” She hears Octavia say. Clarke has her belt in her mouth as she hops on one foot trying to pull her pants over her hips.

“Clarke! Your girlfriend is here!” Her roommate calls down the hall in the direction of the blonde’s room. The suddenly increase in volume and use of the term causes her to lose her balance, falling to the ground with a thud as a slew of profanities fall from her lips.

“We’re not actually girlfriends.” She hears Lexa corrects. Clarke wonders why she feels somewhat offended by it, but the moment quickly passes as she hoists herself back onto her feet, readjusting the buttons on her shirt.

“I know.” Octavia snickers. “I just like messing with her.” She says especially loudly so that Clarke can hear her. “Especially when she’s like this.”

After a moment a frazzled Clarke emerges from the corridor.

“Hey.” Clarke greets nervously.

“I can’t deal with her.” Octavia gives her a once over before turning to Lexa. “She’s all yours.”

“If you would have come as my date, I wouldn’t be like this!” Clarke defends.

“It’s not like I’m skipping out. I’m still going. I just have my own date this year.” Octavia objects proudly as she runs her palms over her skirt, straightening out the fabric giddily. “And besides, your date is standing _right there_ , Clarke.”

“Oh shit!” Clarke’s entire face brightens. “Lexa! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it like that… I just…”

“It’s alright, Clarke.” The brunette chuckles, cutting her off before she can do any more damage. Lucky for her, after spending almost every day together for two weeks, the yoga instructor was now much more accustom to the blonde’s mannerisms and nervous antics. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.” She says gingerly.

Despite being confident 99% percent of the time, Clarke’s face says it all. She’s nervous as hell, pacing back and forth in her bedroom; an absolutely frazzled mess.

Lexa watches her for a moment before she steps forward, halting the blonde in her movement as she tucks her shirt in for her, tugging her belt loops to pull her closer. Slender fingers shrug her pants over her hips before redoing the belt a little tighter.

Clarke never thought a girl dressing her would turn her on more than undressing her.

“What happened to calm, collected Clarke with lots of swagger?” the brunette tries to ease her nerves with a spirited jest. It falls flat. The artist is far too nervous to play along.

“She died, apparently.” Clarke deadpans.

Lexa freezes, blinking.

“Lexa?” Clarke asks hesitantly as the brunette’s eyes grow distant. It takes a moment for her to return, tuning back into their surroundings.

“Sorry. Just remembered something.” She says almost robotically. It’s strange, but before Clarke can ask any further, Lexa goes to the closet, grabbing a silk black tie. She comes back to the blonde, standing in front of her as she loops the fabric around Clarke’s neck, adjusting the tie to sit neatly between her collarbones, slender fingers brushing against her jawline.

“What do you say we add a little makeup?” She smirks, teasing the fact that Clarke was only able to complete one of her eyes with eye shadow.

“Okay.” The blonde says nervously. Lexa leads the way to the bathroom, already having grown accustom to the layout of the apartment. She riffles through Clarke’s scarce makeup options, uncapping and recapping a few selections.

“Sit.” She instructs, gesturing to the toilet seat.

Clarke does so obediently. The brunette leans towards her, left hand steadily cupping her cheek while her right holds the makeup brush by her eye. They’re so close that Clarke can see the flecks of gold around the rim of her green eyes. She swallows hard. Lexa’s not just smoking hot, she’s breathtakingly beautiful. She suddenly feels nerves bubbling in her stomach at the thought of Lexa seeing her final gallery piece.

“Close your eyes.” Lexa says, her voice light and somewhat raspy at the same time. The mixture causes the blonde’s heart to react unwarrantedly.

Lexa is quick with her strokes, skillfully creating a glow across the blonde’s features.

“Done.” The brunette announces, taking a step back. “You look great.” She smiles down at the blonde, admiring her work. Clarke extends her neck to examine her reflection in the mirror. Lexa did a great job.

“Thanks.” She says genuinely. Now that she’s a little more put together, Clarke is given the chance to finally admire the young woman standing in front of her. Her shapely legs in the thigh-high slit dress. Clarke is practically drooling.

“Wow, Lexa. You look…” Clarke gapes.

“Don’t go soft on me now, Griffin.” The brunette smirks.

“I uhh. Okay.” Clarke says dumbly.

The brunette offers her a hand before pulling her up, Clarke’s eyes falling to the deep V at the front of the girl’s chest. Her gaze is torn away when she feels the brunette gives her tie a tug. She turns on her heels, pausing.

“You coming?” She asks from the doorway.

“I will be.” The blonde mumbles under her breath, but judging by the smug tilt of the brunette’s lips, Clarke is pretty sure she heard her anyway.

\---

The beginning of the nights starts out rather tamely. Clarke has Lexa at her side, a hand resting respectfully on the brunette’s lower back or on her hip as they greet the prospective buyers.

_“You did an amazing job.”_

_“I love the green theme you managed to sprinkling in throughout each piece. What inspired you?”_

_“Brilliant execution and brushwork.”_

_“Spot on blending techniques.”_

The compliments don’t go to her head. She takes each one in with compete and genuine consideration.

Clarke had never needed the approval of others to be comfortable with herself, but with her art, it was just the opposite.

“You look lovely tonight,” Dante contends. “Almost as nice as your gallery.” He jokes.

It’s the highest form of flattery she could receive. She beams, feeling Lexa’s eyes on her.

“What?” She asks.

“He’s right.” Lexa says simply. “You look lovely. And I bet the art does too.” She encourages and the artist feels her cheeks warming up. She quickly diverts her gaze, surveying the gallery. It’s then that she realizes they haven’t gotten past the first two rooms due to all he people stopping them.

“Wait here.” She says. “I’ll get us drinks, then we can go.” The blonde promises, search out the mini-bar where she asks the bartender to pour her two glasses of wine. She returns quickly to the brunette, easily able to spot her amongst the sea of people.

“White or red?” She asks the brunette, holding both out drink options for her to choose from.

“White.” Lexa replies.

“You would.” The blonde chuckles.

“Why?” The green-eyed girl quirks a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s sweet, like you.” The artist explains. Lexa rolls her eyes, but Clarke thinks that for once, a non-sexual line is actually good, if Lexa’s blush was any indication.

The artist removes her nametag, stuffing it in her pocket for the time being as she offers her hand to the brunette who takes it with a gentle smile. She wants to focus on the brunette for a second, dedicating her attention on the green orbs that gaze in awe at the walls while the blonde leads them through each room.

When they finally get to her area of the gallery, Clarke lets her hand fall, wiping her sweaty palms on her thigh. She chugs the rest of her drink, setting it down on the table outside the door.

“So uhh, this is it, I guess.” She tries to sound as nonchalant as she can, anxiously awaiting the brunette’s review.

Lexa takes a step forward, settle down her glass, unfinished, as she enters the room. She’s quiet as she walks through the exhibit, studying each piece with careful precision.

She passes Mother Nature, naked trees in the form of female figures, branches holding onto children, entwined silhouettes of people kissing, dancing, the rebirth of a child. It’s all a part of the theme she had been inspired to create based on the vast amounts of forest green she had been mesmerized by over the past few weeks.

Lexa stands in front of each piece for what feels like a lifetime until Clarke cant’ take it anymore.

“Say something, please.” The artist pleads.

“Wow.” Lexa breathes.

“Good wow, or bad wow?” The blonde asks anxiously, fidgeting with her nametag in her pocket.

Lexa turns, warm green eyes meeting her gaze. She immediately relaxes. “ _Incredible_ wow.” Lexa smiles genuinely.

She looks behind the blonde, who is now standing in front of the final piece, her figure right in front of where the queen stands.

“Tell me about this one.” Lexa requests pointing to the towering painting.  She bends slightly to read over the small plaque, captioning the piece. “Life is a battle, but you are a queen.” She recites out loud.

“Uhh, it doesn’t fit the theme of the rest of the pieces, but it’s my favorite and I like that it stands alone.” The blonde admits.

The piece is 8 feet tall and 10 feet wide, hanging solo on its own wall.  Featured in the center of the piece is a brunette with her back to the audience, adorned in both black and white. She stands tall sword in hand on a black and white chess board, surrounded by colorful pieces. The chess king, which Clarke secretly admits looks faintly like Finn Collins, is fallen on its side with the queen, sword in hand, looking off into the distance. It’s surreal and involves fully clothed figures, something out of her realm, but it’s definitely her favorite.

“I was inspired by our night at the Arkade.” Clarke discloses. “I’ve always loved the idea of strong women not taking shit from men, never going down without a fight. I had my…” She pauses, deciding it’s best to not go off on a tangent, returning to focus on the piece. “So I usually paint nudes, but I felt like this just needed to have a women in armor and jewels, standing proudly. Even though the background is all colors, your eyes are still drawn the queen. It took me a really long time to get the lighting to work properly and actually trick your eyes into looking at the monochromatic colors, but I really like the way it turned out. It shows that women can be beautiful, brave, and powerful all at once. I guess you could say it’s one of my more feminist pieces.” Clarke explains in almost one single breath.

“Lexa?” She looks back at the brunette who is looking back at her with an unreadable expression, though Clarke can see a thousand thoughts whirling behind those green eyes.

“I really hate when you do that.” Clarke gulps.

“Do what?” the brunette blinks.

“Just…” Clarke pauses. “I don’t know, stare and not say anything.” She toys with the ends of her tie nervously.

“Sorry,” Lexa apologies. “I just… I’m at a loss for words.” She confesses. “I’m really just speechless, Clarke.” The brunette says with awe. The way she clicks out Clarke’s name makes the blonde’s heart flutter with a multitude of emotions.

_Whoa now, Griffin. Calm yourself before your wreck yourself._

“It’s really amazing.” The yoga instructor praises, looking back up at the queen once again. “And so deep.” She adds.

“Oh.” Clarke flushes red. Lexa takes a step forward, looking into the blonde’s eyes with genuine admiration.

“Do you take commissions?” The brunette asks, eyes trained on the painting.

“Uhh, I guess.” The blonde responds to the brunette’s sharp jawline and flawless profile. “I haven’t ever had a request made.” She admits.

Lexa nods, turning her attention back to her date. “Well, you should consider it. I’d love for you to paint me something."

Her green eyes are focused and piercing as she searches the blonde’s blue ones.

“Wh-what?” Clarke stutters, feeling her body magnetically leaning in.

“There really is more to you than you let on, Clarke Griffin.” Lexa observes.

“I…” Clarke’s gaze fall to the brunette’s lips until a movement from behind the girl catches her eye, breaking the trance.

_Holy shit. Fuck no! This can’t be happening._

Her stomach immediately drops, as well as her mood. She prays for the gods, or even Satan himself, to cast a hole in the ground, swallowing her into the fiery pits of Hell. It would honestly hurt less than seeing her cheating ex-boyfriend standing in the doorway watching her with that stupidly smug grin that used to make her heart flutter and butterflies explode in her stomach.

Her nostrils flare, eyes narrowing dangerously at the boy.

“Clarke?” She hears Lexa question, but her mind is already off on a rage, vision clouded as she stomps forward, ready to rip the asshole a _new_ asshole.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” Clarke hisses. It takes all her restraint not to completely deck him in front of the prospective patrons and her date.

“I came to see the gallery.” He shrugs as if it’s the most normal thing; as if he didn’t totally cheat on her and deny any feelings between them. As if he didn’t leave her shattered and crying on the doorstep.

“Why?” She asks through gritted teeth.

“It’s a free country and on top of that, it’s a public event. I’m allowed to be here just as much as you are.” He defends.

“You don’t live here anymore.” Clarke growls. “How did you find out about it?” She interrogates.

“Social media still exists, Clarke.” He shrugs. She _hates_ the way he says her name.

“What are you doing here, Finn?” She asks again, unsatisfied with his first answer.

“I came to see you.” He sighs. “I wanted to see how you’re doing.” His eyes rake over her almost predatorily. “You look good.” He tries to charm. “I’m only in town for a few days, but if you want to hang out, I can text you the address to my hotel. We could, you know, mess around a little.” He proposes.

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” She spits.

“What? I just thought…”

“No!” She cuts him off. “Save your bullshit for someone else.” She barks. “I have patrons to attend to.’ She spins on her heels, storming back to where her date is watching their interaction hesitantly.

“Clarke?” The brunette asks carefully. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” She replies shortly. “Get a drink with me?” She asks, already heading towards the bar.

“Uh, okay.” Lexa nods carefully and Clarke takes her hand, pulling her towards the arrangement of alcohol beckoning to her.

She slams down an Old Fashioned, wincing at how sweet it is. She then switches to a bourbon, which is slightly better, but still doesn’t subdue her anger. Eventually she just orders a straight shot of Jamison. It’s not the classiest thing for her to do, but she couldn’t care less right now. She didn’t care about Finn. Or the gallery. Or the way that Lexa was watching her, wide eyed as she nursed her own wine.

“Slow down, Clarke.” The brunette tries to jest. “We have all night.’ She tries to alleviate, hand wrapping over Clarke’s wrist, halting her from ordering another drink. The contact sets Clarke’s skin on fire.

“You’re right.” The blonde agrees, the effects of the alcohol now taking a toll on her sense of clarity. She tugs the brunette with her who follows in surprise.

“Clarke?” Her date asks warily. “Where are we going?”

The artist ignores her inquires, unlocking the back door of her exhibit where the gallery’s usual pieces were currently being stored for the time being.

“Clarke, I’m not sure if…”

Clarke cuts her off by pressing her lips desperately to the brunette’s.

“Clarke,” Lexa says warningly, pulling away. The blonde disregards it, wrapping her arms around the brunette possessively as she leans forward again. Lexa turns her head away and Clarke latches onto her neck instead, biting harshly.

“Clarke!” The brunette gasps, pushing against her shoulders. Clarke holds on even tighter.

“Clarke, stop!” The brunette gives her a particularly forceful shove, causing her to stumble back into a pole of canvases that topple over. The loud bang finally causes her to stop, chest heaving and eyes dark.

“Damn it, Lexa. Every time!” She shouts. “You’re such a fucking tease. What? Do you think I won’t be able to satisfy you? Am I not good enough? Are you not ready?” It’s the hurt talking, Clarke knows it, but she can’t stop herself from continuing on in pure rage.

“I’m not doing this because I’m not ready.” Lexa shakes her head. “I’m doing it because you aren’t. And it’s even clearer now, based on your reaction.”

“You know what? Fuck this.” Clarke glares. “Fuck everything.” She throws her hands up in the air. “And fuck _you.”_ The insult falls from her lips before she can stop herself.

In the flash of a second, she feels her cheek stinging and the last thing she sees is Lexa and her red dress fleeing from the room.

_Fuck. You really are terrible, Clarke Griffin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Feelings? Emotions?
> 
> Here's some cute Clexa fanart to make up for fuckboy Finn souring everybody's mood.  
> http://heyjayyay.tumblr.com/post/146927144808/on-the-ground-there-is-no-law-all-we-have-to-do


	9. Sometimes The Truth Hurts

Had it been any other circumstance, Lexa may have actually kissed Clarke back. But everything about their encounter had felt wrong, staring with the way the blonde’s mood seemed to sour after talking with the mysterious man in the doorway. After what seemed to be a heated argument, Clarke’ behavior had taken a sharp 180, leaving Lexa completely taken aback. She could see the storm behind those blue eyes but every time she tried to ask what the matter was, the blonde hid behind alcohol and darkened eyes.  

This was not the same girl who spent the afternoon at the park passionately emphasizing the importance of respect towards women and the need to treat them to way they deserved to be treated. This Clarke didn’t have that same playful smile of her face that made Lexa’s eyes draw toward the beauty mark highlighting the thin, delicate line of her lips. The Clarke that Lexa took as her date had been so endearingly clumsy up until that point. She had been sweet, even, and at beginning of the night, Lexa was actually really enjoying herself, watching Clarke carry herself with so much humility and bashfulness. She had revealed herself to be someone that Lexa could actually feel herself growing comfortable with. Or so she thought.

She feels hot tears fall down her face as she waves down the street the yellow vehicle turning the corner. Clark had actually _terrified_ her. And Lexa Woods was only scared of two things; love and losing control. Neither of which, she had felt in a long time, she reminds thankfully.

“You alright, miss?” The elderly cab driver asks as he rolls down the window. She thanks the universe for sending her such a kind driver, and not a creep. “Is there somewhere safe I can take you to?” 

She swallows the lump in her throat. There are two options, she thinks to herself. She picks the lesser of the two evils. She climbs into the cab, telling the man where to turn.

The ride is silent and when they pull into the apartment complex, she feels her stomach drop. Maybe her first choice would have been better. After all, alcohol can’t scream at her. Jack doesn’t lecture or tell her “I told you so.” Maybe she _should_ turn back. But when she looks in the rearview mirror, the man is giving her such an encouragingly sympathetic smile that she feels guilty asking him to turn around.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He consoles. “You’re gonna be alright.”

She nods, riffling through her purse. A stray tear falls against her will as she looked down. She swipes at it in embarrassment, apologizing to the driver.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says gently, no pity in his eyes, just understanding. “I’ll takes one.” He adjusts his seatbelt so he can reach into his back pocket, extracting his wallet. He takes out a twenty, placing in the cup on the dashboard.

“But sir, I can’t…” She tries to object.

“Please.” The man cuts off. “Let me.”

“Okay.” The brunette caves, not having the strength to really put up much of a fight. “Thank you.” She says gratefully.

“I hope your night gets better, darling.” He offers.

“Me too.” She whispers, stepping out of the car into the brisk night air. She climbs the seven flights, draining her of the last bit of her energy.

“Anya?” She asks timidly, knuckles rapping lightly against the door.

When the door opens, she sees her sister’s fiancé standing protectively in the doorway. It’s late. He probably thought that she was a threat.

“Sorry.” The brunette immediately flushes, taking a step backwards. “I didn’t know you would be here.” She apologizes. “I’ll just go…”

Her sister steps out from around the corner, having heard her shaky voice.

“Lexa?” Anya asks, brow knit in confusion. Her brown eyes immediately soften when she takes in the state of her baby sister cowering in the doorway. “Hey.” She coaxes. “Come here.” She ushers, pushing past her boyfriend to pull the younger girl inside. Lexa bites her lip, swallowing back her tears. She doesn’t want to cry in front of Roan, but her resolve is quickly fading. Luckily, the blonde picks up on her cues and turns back to the man at her side.

“Roan?” She gives him a silent look and he understands immediately.

“Of course.” He nods. “I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me.” He says in understanding. He places a hand on Lexa’s shoulder, giving her a comforting squeeze. She can’t help but flinch away and Anya studies her reaction with her eyebrows creased. She waits until Roan is of earshot before ushering them to the couch.

“I thought you were supposed to be at the gallery.” Her sister observes.

“I-I was.” The brunette cracks and tears fall from her eyes.

“Lexa?” Anya scoots closer, voice gentle. “Hey, what happened?” Her sister asks with concern in her eyes. Her lip trembles but she can’t bring herself to speak any words. She just sits until she feels the moment Anya notices the bruising hickey on her neck.

“Lexa!” Anya growls, anger suddenly trumping any other emotion. “Did she hurt you?”

The brunette’s gaze falls, shaking her head. “No, but…”

“Lexa!” Her sister says firmly. “Tell me.”

“You… you were right.” Lexa cries, damn bursting. “She’s a pig. She doesn’t respect women and she…”

“Oh, Lex,” Her sister softens, now seeing how torn up the younger Woods girl was. She wraps her up in protective arms, rocking her soothingly as she had many times before. Lexa buries her face into the blonde’s shoulder, falling into the safety of her sister’s hold.

“That’s not something I want to be right about.” Her sister says sadly, combing a hand through her wavy brown locks.

“I don’t know why it hurts so much.” The brunette hiccups. “It’s not like you didn’t tell me she was a player. You told me to be careful and I should have listened to you.” She chides herself with a sob.

“Hey,” Her sister sighs. She knows Anya’s angry, with her, with herself, and definitely with Clarke. But her expression is more disappointed than anything. “It hurts because it mattered. I was really hoping you would prove me wrong because I saw the way you looked at her.” She can tell it pains her to say it.

Lexa tilts her head in confusion.

“The way your eyes lit up. I saw the old you, a carefree you. She made you happy, even if you didn’t realize it. Your eyes have always been your tell.” Anya divulges.

The truth hits her hard and fast. For a moment, there’s nothing she can do but sit in gape. She had started falling for Clarke, but the blonde wasn’t going to be there to catch her.

 _Shit. She let herself lose control and fall in love._  
  
“What’s going on in your head right now?” her sister asks carefully. She waits patiently until Lexa is ready to speak again. It takes at least another five minutes, but Anya just sits, taking her hand in her own as she rubs her thumb against the brunette’s wrist in soothing circles.

“I don’t know what happened. Everything was fine. Clarke was being so sweet one minute, telling me all these incredible things about her art, and then she went to talk to some guy and all of a suddenly it was like she became a completely different person. She tried to make a move on me, but all I could see was anger and pain in her eyes. So I told her that it was wrong and she wasn’t in the right state of mind. She called me a tease when I finally pushed her off me. Then I came straight here.”

“I’m going to kill her.” Anya snarls. “I’m going to fucking beat the shit out of that…”

“Anya, don’t.” She pleads sadly. “Can we just…” She tries to calm her hot-headed sister. As angry as she was herself, something inside her told her this wasn‘t Clarke. It just didn’t fit the girl she had spent all the past few weeks getting to know.

“You’re going to defend her?” the blonde fumes.

“No, but I just… I feel kind of sorry for her, okay?” She says conflicted. She’s angry at Clarke too, but maybe not to the point of wanting to physically inflict pain onto her like her sister wanted to. Maybe it’s because she already got her turn and judging by the sound, it was a damn good slap too.

“She’s the one who should be feeling sorry!” Her sister seethes. “You did nothing wrong!”

“I know.” The brunette says timidly. “But there was something about the way she looked when she first saw that guy. She looked so scared and so small and…”

“Just like you do, Lex.” Anya presses. “Right now.”

“I…” her phone starts ringing, cutting her off. Clarke’s caller ID pops up on the screen and Anya immediately lunges for it before Lexa has a chance to react. The blonde presses the call reject button before typing in Costia’s birthday, shooting off a text to the blonde. Lexa sits defeated, allowing her sister to send whatever biting message she wants.

“I don’t want you hanging out with her anymore.” Anya finally says, passing back the phone. Lexa stares at the device in her lap, clenching her jaw.

 “Lexa,” Anya lectures. “I’m serious. Promise me you will stay away from Clarke Griffin.”

“I…” She hesitates.

“Alexandria.” The older woman says sternly. Lexa sighs, no longer wanting to put up any more of a fight.

“Okay.” She obliges. “I will.”

“Stay here tonight, okay?” Her sister requests, voice softer now that she has agreed. “I’m proud of you for coming here instead of…”

“Yeah.” She cuts off. She doesn’t want to talk about _that_. Nor does she want to resort to it.

“I’m going to grab some blankets and pillows and meet you out here, alright?” Her sister says. Lexa nods solemnly. When her sister is gone, she unlocks her phone reading the messages.

She sighs, tossing it back onto the coffee table.

She spends the night cramped on the couch, tucked between her sister and the cushions, Anya’s arm wrapped protectively around her defeated frame.

\---

After her stupid fit, Clarke gets smacked back into reality, realizing just how much of an ass she had been. She was no better than Fuckboy Finn and the realization made her sick. She crumpled into herself, hiding in the storage area unit she could gather enough sanity to slip out unnoticed. By then, Lexa was long gone and when she tried to call her wanting desperately to explain and apology, the girl ignored her call. Instead, she receives another slap in the face in the form of a text response.

_Fuck off. Stay the hell away from me. - L_

Okay, she deserved that.

_I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. - C_

She does though. Finn Collins. That’s what. And she let him win. _Again_. She spends the rest of her night sitting on the couch with her phone clasped in one hand, the remote in the other.

“Hey,” her roommate greets the next morning. She strolls through the doorway glowing, Lincoln in tow. He pecks her on the cheek, seeing her off with a kiss before giving Clarke a quick nod.

“Have a good night?” The blonde asks dryly once the door closes.

“Yeah.” Her roommate grins, still dreamily facing the doorway. “You and Lexa left early too.” She smirks, eying the bedroom.

“She’s not in there.” Clarke says flatly.

“Just checking.” The brunette teases, but Clarke isn’t in the mood.

“Don’t worry. I won’t be seeing her anymore.” She huffs.

 “What do you _mean_ you won’t be seeing her again?” her roommate asks drawing her out of her thoughts, hands now on her hips.

The blonde’s tired eyes finally leave the screen, façade falling guiltily.

“What did you do, Clarke?” Octavia looks angry.

“I fucked up, O.” She admits. “I fucked up big time.”

There’s a knock on the door, stopping her from continuing. She sighs as her roommate turns.

“Linc,” Octavia says expectantly as she goes to answer the door. “Did you forget some… Collins?” her roommate immediately stiffens, shifting defensively in front of the door to block him from entering the apartment. Clarke shrinks into the cushions of the couch, bile churning in the back of her throat.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The brunette growls.

“I wanted to talk to Clarke, if that’s okay.” He says, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“No.” Her roommate spits back. “In what fucking universe would hat _ever_ be okay?” The brunette hisses and Clarke is thankful for Octavia’s loyalty as she slams the door in his face.

She locks it in seconds, leaning her back against the door with a groan. “Did you know he was in town?”

“Yeah.” Clarke says quietly, eyes glassy. “Found out last night when he came to the gallery. Surprise, right?” She laughs dryly.

“Oh no…” Octavia looks at her with concern, putting the pieces together. “Please tell me you didn’t?”

She looks guiltily at the ground.

“You took it out on Lexa?” the brunette concludes.

“In the worst way possible.” The blonde admits. “I tried to get her to sleep with me.”

“Clarke…” Her roommate looks at her with a mixture of disappointment, frustration, but mostly pity.

“I’m an ass.” Clarke admits.

“Yeah.” Her roommate nods. “Obviously. And a part of me really wants to beat you up, you know.”

“I know. I don’t blame you.” She groans.

“But another part of me knows you’re going to be and probably already have been beating yourself up for it already.” Octavia reasons.

She grunts, throwing her body into the couch cushion, face falling into a pillow as she presses forward, trying to suffocate herself.

“Stop that.” The brunette gives her a tug by the back of her shirt. She feels the seat sink in beside her and she turns dejectedly to meet her roommate’s gaze.

“Do you want me to say something?” Octavia offers.

“No.” The artist shakes her head. “I fucked up. It’s my own fault.”

“Okay. Let me know how I can help.”

“I’ll figure out something.” She says unconvincingly.

\---

Something turns out to be a tall blonde hookup in the bathroom of a local bar. She does well to help numb the pain for the moment.

“More!” Clarke demands and the older woman eagerly obliges.

“Niylah, by the way.” The taller blonde pants when they’ve finished. “My name is Niylah.”

“Clarke.”

Clarke returns to the apartment smelling of alcohol and smoke, snapback teetering sideways over her disheveled hair. She drunkenly wobbles to the bathroom, washing her face with an exasperated moan.

“What are you doing?” Octavia narrows her eyes in disappointment.

She doesn’t know. Honestly, she’s all over the place. She scowls at her own image in the mirror. Octavia’s eyes meet hers through the reflection.

“Have you spoken to Lexa?” her roommate goads.

“No.” Clarke shakes her head drunkenly. The room is spinning and she lets it swirl around her, distracting her from her guilty and grief. “Have _you_?”

The brunette shakes her head. “She canceled yoga.” She frowns.

Everything is so fucked up. Clarke is fucked up, both drunkenly and in life in general. God, she really fucked up.

“Fuck. Fucked. Fucking. Fuck.” She repeats over and over again until the word itself just sounds comical. Clarke giggles stupidly. She teeters slightly on her feet and her roommate reacts quickly, steadying her.

“Come on,” She sighs. “To bed with you.” She says, shoving the blonde in the direction of her bedroom. She tosses the plaid shirts that liter her bed onto the ground, kicking off her shoes into the closet lazily. She can’t stand the pitiful look the brunette is giving her as she flops onto the sheets. When the door closes, she pulls out her phone. She crawls up her bed, reaching into the drawer of the side table to pull out a packet of beef jerky.

Thank the Gods for drunk food.

She grabs two large pieces as she stares at the phone, looking through her contacts. She could call her again, but there were risks, she knows. Lexa could hang up. She could just not answer her at all. After all, she had told Clarke to, as she so eloquently put it, “Fuck off.”

She takes a rather aggressive bite of the dried mat, tearing it with a tug of her teeth.

_Fuck it._

She dials the brunette’s number. It rings endlessly until she decides to hang up. Lexa clearly wasn’t going to answer her call.

She sends her another text. After no response, almost three hours later, she tries again. No answer. No response.

\---

Her attempt the next day yields the same results.

\---

And the next.

\---

And the next.

\---

And the next.

\---

By the fifth day, the blonde has pretty much lost all hope. She flips onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow a she releases a pent up scream of frustration.

If Lexa doesn’t want to give her the chance at an apology, fine. So be it. She unlocks her phone again, dialing one more time. The only way to get over someone else is to get under someone else.

She scrolls through her contacts, skimming over the names until she hovers overa  certain name. She rmembers those long legs and toned stomach.

 _Here goes nothing._ She hits the call button.

It rings once. _Maybe this isn’t such a good idea._

It rings a second time. _No fuck it. You need this._

It rings a third time. _Who cares? It’s not like you were even dating. If Lexa doesn’t want you,  it’s her problem._

It rings a fourth time. _It’s not your problem. This is all Finn’s fault anyway._

It rings a fifth time. _It’s fine. It’s just going to be another no-strings attached fling._

It rings a sixth time. _Stop. This is so wrong…_

Just as she’s about to pull the phone away from her ear, she hears a hesitant “hello?” on the other end.

Well shit.

She takes a breath, collecting herself.

“Heyyy!” She says as chipper as she can. “It’s Clarke.”

“Oh!” The voice says in recognition. “Hey!” She says eagerly. “I was wondering if I was going to hear from you again.”

“I’ve been busy.” She says vaguely.

_Busy getting my phone calls rejected._

It probably sounds fake, but she schools herself to brush it aside. “So, “ She husks into the receiver. “What are you doing tonight?”

“You.” The woman replies back boldly without a hint of hesitation. Clarke feels her face crack into a smile.

“That’s what I was hoping to hear.” She grins. “I knew I liked you for a reason.” She flirts.

There’s a soft laugh on the other end and the sound of shuffling. “7:30.” the other woman says smoothly. “I’ll text you my address.”

\---

 “Sit down.” Her roommate pounces on her the second she unlocks the entryway of the apartment.

“Nice to see you too, O.” The blonde rolls her eyes as she kicks the door shut behind her. She toes off her Air Jordan’s, leaving them at the door before tossing her keys into the bowl on the counter. They swirl against the curvature of the rim before sliding down with a soft clink against the base.

“Seriously, Clarke.” The brunette crosses her arms and the artist realizes she means business

With a sigh, she obliges,  sulking over to her roommate who waits on the cushions with a stern expression etched into her hardened features.

“What’s up?” She asks with a forced smile.

“This has to stop.” The brunette demands.

“What does?” She feigns innocence.

The brunette narrows her eyes, brows angled downward. “You _know_ what.”

“She doesn’t want to see me, O. I tried.” She snaps.

“Try harder.” The brunette bites back.  “You can’t keep doing this. I get that Finn hurt you. And for a while, I understood why you were acting the way you were. And I know why you’re acting like this, but you need to get it together! This isn’t you. None of this,” she gestures up and down at the blonde. “for the last year, has been you.”

The blonde tilts her chin away in defiance, rolling her eyes.

“Clarke!” The brunette smacks her hard with one of the couch cushions. “Fucking listen to me!” She growls and the blonde reluctantly returns her attention to her furious roommate.

“Stop running from your problems! You can’t just push people away and lash out when things don’t work out.” Octavia lectures.

“I don’t have any problems.” She denies, crossing her arms.

“Yes, you clearly do.” The brunette insists. “You feel guilty about what you did and you’re coping with in an unhealthy way, just like you did with Finn.”

“I’m nothing like Finn.” She spits.

The brunette groans in frustration. She knows she’s being bullheaded, but hey, no one likes being called out on their shit.

“I’m not saying you’re _like_ Finn, Clarke.” Her roommate rolls her eyes. “I’m saying that you aren’t _handling_ this the right way. You know that this is wrong. This isn’t you. Doesn’t it feel wrong to you?

_Yes._

“People change.” Clarke shrugs. “They grow up.“

“Yeah, they do.” Octavia says sharply. “So when will _you_?” She counters, dealing out a heaping serving of tough love.

She stays silent and avoids her for the rest of the day. Now she has not one, but two brunettes completely furious at her.

\---

For every day Lexa ignores her calls, Clarke makes the blonde come twice. She had to hand it to Niylah, her stamina was pretty good. Probably not as good as Lexa’s, she guesses, but still…

She mentally berates herself for thinking of the brunette while hooking up with another person, pressing her fingers deeper into the squirming blonde as her tongue works overtime to bring her over the edge yet again. Niylah’s body arches as it stiffens, her body shaking until she finally has to physically tug Clarke away by her hair, chest heaving.

Clarke feels sick to her stomach.

“Fuck, Clarke. What was that?” Niylah pants. “18 times? As much as I love when you do that, I need a break.” Niylah’s breathe is heavy as she unravels herself from Clarke’s grip.

“Okay.” Her voice cracks as she rolls off of the woman, shuffling to the other side of the bed. Niylah watches her tentatively.

They sit in silence.

“So that was a new record, I think.” The taller woman says, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m surprised I haven’t blacked out yet.” The joke falls flat and she frowns. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“No.” Clarke responds, eyes cold and distant.

“Look Clarke, I love a good hook-up as much as anyone else, but even _you_ know this isn’t right.” Niylah reasons and Clarke hates the pitiful expression the blonde is currently giving her. She doesn't need emotions involved in this. She doesn't want them. Emotions mean risking getting hurt.

“It doesn’t feel right.” Niylah seems to read her mind. “This is supposed to be a no-strings attached sort of deal, and you’re attached. To something and …”

“Can you stop talking?” Clarke cuts off, clenching her fists.

“Sorry.” Niylah apologizes, eyes falling to the bed where she balls the sheets between her fingers uncountable. The air between them lingers with a somber atmosphere that neither wants to address.

“I’m just going to go.” Clarke final says.

The older woman gives her a nod, scooping up her shirt from where it had been tossed to the floor, handing out over silently. She watches Clarke dress, picking up her own scattered clothing from where it had hap hazardously been tossed aside the previous night. The memories make her stomach churn. She desperately needs to get out of there and clear her head.

“Clarke.” Niylah says from the doorway, single button up draped over her shoulders.  “I hope everything works out for you.”

Clarke nods once, closing the door behind her.


	10. A Second Chance

The yoga instructor sat on her mat as the class filed in. It had been over a week since the art show and Lexa had stuck to her sister’s request, ignoring the blonde’s calls and texts. When she last checked, there were 13 texts and 17 missed calls. It was excessively ridiculous and yet something about it didn’t sit right with the brunette. It made her heartstrings tug uncomfortably every time the blonde’s name would come up on her caller ID. So much so that it had gotten to the point where she completely avoided her phone all together, much to her sister’s dismay.

“Good morning everybody.” She opens, surveying the class. Each student looks back at her bright eyed and eager, save for the exception of her sister’s best friend and his girlfriend who both watch her warily. She diverts her gaze, green eyes trained straight again, looking just above her students’ heads. It appears that she’s addressing them all, but really, her focus is on the back window, watching the clouds roll through on that lazy morning.

“I’m sorry for having to cancel last week’s session.” She prefaces with an apology. “I was not feeling well and needed to take care of myself first. I hope you can all sympathize with wanting to take care of your mind and body.” She says quietly.

There’s a mumble of agreement amongst her students.

“You’ve all be recredited for the class and a makeup session will be rescheduled as well.” She continues, now tearing her gaze away from the fluffy formations scattered across the blanket of blue. It’s just a shade too familiar and Lexa is forced to refocus on the students in the room.

She tries her best to avoid eye contact with Octavia whose eyes, she can feel, are trained on her, expression curiously tentative as she observes the instructor throughout the period of the class.

“Let’s start with some simple breathing exercises to open up our chests and minds, shall we?” She instructs rhetorically. “Sit up straight with your head resting levelly on your shoulders. Expand your body and inhale slowly.”

It’s terribly ironic since she herself finds it hard to breathe…

\---

“Hey” The student approaches her at the conclusion of class. Her shoulders immediately tense at the girl’s voice and she curses herself for losing it so easily. The whole hour’s worth of relaxation  efforts have completely gone out the window.

“Good morning Octavia.” She swallows. Her greeting is really too formal, but she’s cautious.

“Can I talk to you?” The shorter girl requests, giving her boyfriend a quick brush of a hand to signal that the conversation was to private.

“I believe you already are.” She responds stiffly, green eyes trained on Lincoln’s retreating figure until he’s out the door. It’s closed off, but hey, she’s wary of Octavia at this point. Who knows what Clarke has told her about the night at the gallery?

“Right.” The student frowns, stepping into her line of focus to bring her back into the conversation. “Listen, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Lexa quirks her brow at that.

“ _You_ have no reason to apologize.” She objects.

“Yeah,” Octavia shrugs. “But you don’t seem to want to accept LCarke’s apology so…” she says with a shrug.

Immediately, Lexa becomes defensive, straightening her spin and narrowing her gaze.

“No judgment.” The student holds up her hands in surrender. “I don’t know what happened, just that Clarke pushed too hard and really fucked up. And I’m not making excuses for her, trust me.” She defends and the instructor’s fists unclench.

“Clarke can be an absolute moron sometimes.” Octavia says, forcing a laugh to try and break the tension. “And this is definitely one of those times. But she’s also my best friend and really, she’s just as lost as the rest of us, if not more.”

Lexa chews her lip, trying to read the brunette’s body language. It _does_ sound genuine, but she isn’t quite sure why Octavia is telling her all of this. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” She admits.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Octavia says with a patient smile. “I just want you to know that if you can ignore what Clarke did for the times we’re together, I’d still like for us to stay friends.”

“Yes. Of course.” She nods. “I’m sorry if I gave off the impression that I didn’t want us to be.”

“Okay. I was just making sure.” The brunette nods.

\---

The next day Clarke wakes to find that her roommate has already left the apartment. She vaguely recalls that it’s Saturday and she’s most likely at yoga with Lincoln. And Lexa. Her stomach fills with guilt.

She can’t believe she almost let Finn get to her again.

 _He only wants what he can’t have once he gets it, he doesn’t want it anymore_. She reminds herself.

Too late though. She’s already fucked things up and it’s been eating away at her.

She burns the roof her mouth on a hot pocket before taking a scorching shower, the heat doing nothing to warm the numbness she feels. After mindlessly staring at the television screen, unable to process anything, Clarke finds herself, longboard under her feet, careering through the streets to the park.

She settles onto the bench, watching the world of childhood simplicity pace by.

“Clarke!” An excited high pitched voice calls out, red hair barreling towards her.  She feels two arms wrap around her before she’s able to process anything, almost tumbling over with the boy crashing down with her.

“Hey little man,” she says once she’s regained her composure. She greets him with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. He doesn’t notice.

“What’s up?” She asks.

“We’re just about to start a game.” Aden reveals. “Do you have time to play? You promised.”  He bats his eyes innocently and Clarke’s stomach fills up with even more guilt.

“I don’t know, Aden.” She hesitates. “I’m not really…”

“Please Clarke!” He begs, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I miss you. We all do.” He frowns and she feels her resolve crack, unable to refuse the boy’s request. He throws in a theatrically pleading gesture just for good measure.

“Alright.” She caves, following the boy over to the group of young teenagers who had been tossing the basketball amongst themselves to warm up.

“Clarke is gonna play with us!” He announces and she’s met with a chorus of cheers.

“I want her on our team.” The smallest of the boys declares.

“No way!” Aden refuses, crossing his arms over his chest as he stands defiantly.

“I called it first!” The little one objects.

“But _I’m_ the one who asked her!” The redhead rebuttals. “If I didn’t, she wouldn’t even be here.” He reasons.

“Clarke!” They both say, turning to her to make the final decision. As silly as it was, the feeling of being wanted, needed, made her heart swell. These kids didn’t know about the horrible week she had, or the horrible things she had done. They simply wanted her. They enjoyed her company. They missed her. And to have them fight over her, even if it was in such a trivial matter, made the blonde bite her lip, forcing back tears.

“What do you say we play two rounds?” She suggests. “I’ll play the first one with you.” She gestures to the littlest child. “And then the next with you.” She nods her head at Aden.

The two consider it for a moment before eagerly agreeing. The boys begin to break off in two groups and Clarke makes her way towards the far end of the court but finds herself stopped momentarily. She’s taken aback when Aden wraps his arms around her stomach, giving her the tightest squeeze before running off to join the rest of his team.

Ball in hand, she runs down the court with a parade of kids, all a half foot shorter than her, chasing after her for control. And for a moment, she feels free. For once Clarke enjoys herself, forgetting her troubles, surrounded by youthful innocence where the biggest concerns are still insignificant matters.

When her team about to win the game, she grabs the tiniest member, handing him the ball and lifting him with all her might so that he can easily make the basket. The look on his face, bewildered yet excited, makes the ache in her arms completely worth it.

As the second round begins, she promises the play will be fair and abide by all the rules. At the end, she tosses the ball to Aden and lets him score the winning basket, the rest of the team charging towards him with hollers of victory.

Clarke sits on the pavement as the boys continue to hoot, body completely spent.

_Damn, Griffin. You’re getting old._

She smiles to herself, enjoying the ache in her bones. The blonde closes her eyes as she feels a wave of nostalgia wash over her, taking comfort in the small cheers floating in and out of her ears as she transports herself to a peaceful place.

“Finn never plays with us.” A voice says from beside her and blue eyes flutter open. She looks over at the redheaded boy who had praised her..

She doesn’t have a response. She doesn’t want to defend him, but she also feels terrible for knowing that he never will. Aside from his unwelcome visit a few weeks ago, he wasn’t coming back. Something she was relieved of, but also felt terribly sorry for. Aden had always liked playing ball with her ex-boyfriend. And at the time, she had enjoyed watching them and even joining them as well.

‘You’re better than him.” The boy says, grinning from ear to ear. “At least you stop by sometimes.”

There’s a drop in the pit of her stomach at the boy’s words, unbeknownst to him.

“Do you want to get ice cream with us?” He inquires. “It’s going to be dark soon.” He tilts his head towards the setting sun. “The park is going to close.”

“Nah.” She shakes her head. “I should probably head home.”

“Okay.” He nods in understanding, pushing himself up off the pavement before brushing off his hands. “Thanks for again for hanging out with us.”

“Anytime, kiddo.” She returns standing to give an affectionate nudge to the boy’s shoulder. She offers Aden and the rest of the boys a wave, watching to ensure that cross the street carefully before parting their separate ways.

Clarke doesn’t go home though. Instead, she turns on her heels, not wanting to leave the easiness of the playground and saunters through the brush to the abandoned swing set, taking comfort in the tight squeeze of the seat against her hips, holding her securely in place.

She doesn’t want to return to the real world. She desperately wishes she can stay in this little bubble, cradled in the swing, away from all of her troubles, the problems, and the complicated mess she had gotten herself into.

 _You’re better than him._ A small voice echoes in her head.

She feels tears spill over her eyes; longing, loss, and despair all mixing into one salty cascade down her cheeks. She hates him, but she hates herself. _She_ did this. Yes, he was a catalyst but she’s the one who dug her own hole and now she was in so deep, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to get herself up over the ledge again.

The tears keep falling and God, when will they stop?

Just a few minutes ago, she had been at peace, at ease. And with a flip of switch, she was in hysterics. Maybe this was the universe’s way to sending her a sign. Of punishing her for the shitty person she had become. She hates herself, each tear falling faster than the last until she can’t cry any longer. The choking sobs morph into quiet gasps for air, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

She knows should leave. No need to get arrested for trespassing. It’s the last thing she needs to have added onto her emotionally taxing day.

When she stands to return home, she catch sight of a body lying on the ground. Her first instinct is the call the police, thinking it was a corpse, but that doesn’t seem very likely in the middle of a public park in central DC. When she steps closer, all sense of logic flies out the window.

_Okay, universe. You got what you wanted. Please stop with the torture. That’s enough for one day._

Lexa lays beautifully, hair splayed out, eyes shut. Her chest rises and falls evenly as she breathes and Clarke feels like an absolute creep for staring. But she’s genuinely unable to move. She hadn’t seen the girl for almost two weeks and she still looks so beautiful.

Before she can stop herself, she takes a step into the grass, sitting next to the brunette, eyes glued forward, afraid to actually speak or scare the brunette away again.

\---

That evening, Lexa ends up at a party with Anya protectively at her side, Octavia cautiously present, and Lincoln acting as a mediator between his best friend and his girlfriend. Roan had been trying to get her sister to release the iron grin she had on Lexa’s tattooed triceps, cementing herself to the brunette as they moved from room to room.

“I’m not going to drink, An.” She assures. “You can let go.”

“That’s not why I’m holding on.” The blonde retorts, eyes suspicious and guarded.

Really, she did appreciate it, but sometimes it was sort of suffocating when her sister acted this way.

“I’m not even in the mood to drink.” She tries to assure again. “Go hang out with Roan.” She gestures over to the large man standing a respectful distance away from the two siblings, watching their conversation carefully.

“He’s been waiting patiently all night.” She teases. “Cut your fiancé a break.”

“Lex…” Anya opens her mouth to argue, but Lexa cuts her off.

“Go!” She insists. “I’m fine, seriously.” She practically shoves her sister towards her fiancé. Anya stumbles forward and Lexa chuckles at the glare the blonde shoots her way. “Go!” She ushers with her hands.

She checks her phone. She’s had radio silence from Clarke for the last two days. She doesn’t know if she should feel relieved or worried. It wasn’t like her to just ice someone out like this. Clarke had overstepped, but with the number of calls and texts she had sent, Lexa knew the girl was sorry. And from what she did read of a few of the texts, the blonde was more than genuine about her apology. Octavia had been right. But Lexa still felt slightly conflicted about the entire situation. Normally Clarke was nice all be it, sometimes tried a bit too hard. But in a way, it was endearing, especially when her pickup lines were unsuccessful and her cheeks would flush in embarrassment. But the girl she was with that night, _that_ Clarke, was something entire different. And _not_ in a good way.

Suddenly Lexa doesn’t really feel like partying at all, mood brought down significantly by her own thoughts.  She makes her way outside, giving her sister a quick head nod, politely declining when she offers to go with her. Instead of returning to her empty apartment, she decides to veer off her normal path, finding herself in front of the blonde’s secret park. She doesn’t know why her subconscious brought her here. Maybe to face her demons.

She settles in the grass, flopping into her back as she stares at the stars. It’s technically illegal to be there, as the sun as already set and the sky is fully blanketed in a deep, dark blue. She loses herself in thought, eyes falling closed as she breathes steadily. She hears Clarke’s husky voice and heavily hooded blue orbs glow on the inside her eyelids.

_Women deserve to be respected and treated fairly._

It feels almost too real, as if Clarke presence was nearby. When she opens her eyes, the brunette startles, a bod y sitting next to her, still a good two feet away.

The girl’s blonde hair illuminates in the moonlight and Lexa’s breath catches in both a terrifying and heart-racing manner. She’s about the run off when Clarke speaks.

Please.” She pleads. “Stay.” She begs and when she finally lifts her head, Lex sees that Clarke is crying, or at least, she had been. That, and she looks positively exhausted. The light in her eyes has dulled, dwindled down to almost nothing. Her features, normally bright and soft are sunken in, with bags hanging under her eyes. So maybe completely ignoring the blonde had done more of a number on Clarke than Lexa had initially thought. No wonder why Octavia had approached her. She knows she shouldn’t, but in a way, the brunette kind of feels a bit ashamed. She had never been this cruel to anybody before.

“How did you know I was here?” She asks cautiously, fists balled at her side.

“Fate?” The blonde sniffs, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She forces a smile, but Lexa gives her a pointed look, not ready or willing to deal with the blonde’s typical banter.

“Honestly?” Clarke says with a sigh. “I really didn’t. It’s not a line. I’m just as surprised as you are.” She confesses.

“Surprised?” She quirks a brow. “ _You_ want to tell _me_ about being surprised?” Lexa can’t help but throw out the jab.

“I deserved that.” The blonde says, head falling indignantly.

“Yeah. You did.” The brunette sighs, forcing down her emotions.

“And you didn’t.” Clarke whispers regretfully.

“Yeah.’ Lexa doesn’t know how else to respond. She observes the blonde’s posture, shriveled and tucked into herself. She has her arms wrapped around her knees, huddled as small as possible. It’s clear that Clarke is sorry. And though Lexa doesn’t want to be angry anymore, she really can’t trust her either.

They stay silent, neither pushing or pulling, just looking up at the sky.

When she finally does look back at Clarke, she catches a tear spilling from the corner of the blonde’s sad eyes. The air around them is heavy and tinged with sadness.

Before she can stop herself, the brunette subconsciously shifts closer. She sees the Clarke’s throat bob and waits until the blonde is ready to open up.

“His name was Finn.” The exhausted blonde finally says, voice and spirits deflated. “The boy at he gallery, his name is Finn. He was my ex.” She hesitates and Lexa waits until she calms enough to continue, running her fingers tightly through blonde waves of hair.

“I thought I was in love with him, but then I caught him cheating on me.” She grits her teeth. “In bed with someone else.” She adds and Lexa feels sorry for the blonde as she fights back another wave of tears.

“When I saw him again, I just got so crazy and all those feelings, the anger, the pain, the disappointment, and the betrayal… it all just came to the surface.’ She croaks. “I tried so hard to push all of those things aside, to forget about him. But they just bubbled up anyway. And I took it out on you.” She frowns at her behavior.

“It was wrong.” She acknowledges.  “ _I_ was wrong. And when you rejected me, even when you teasingly shot me down, I just lost it. I felt unwanted. But you have every right to be mad at me.” She reasons. “But I just want you to know that I really am sorry.” She apologizes, watery blue eyes meeting hers. “I’m _so_ sorry, Lexa.”

Lexa takes a moment to process the new information.

“Maybe I should go.” The blonde says shakily, when Lexa fails to respond.

“I lost someone special to me too.” The brunette finally blurts, causing Clarke to freeze in her movement.  Lexa doesn’t really know why she’s confessing this information to Clarke. But it slips out before she can take it back.

“Her name was Costia.” More painful words continue to escape from her lips. “You know they say everything happens for a reason and I just…” She shakes her head, eyes darting away to look over at the swing set, the seat rocking slightly with the soft spring breeze. Lexa doesn’t elaborate and Clarke doesn’t push it. _Thankfully_. Her breathing changes and she tries her best to stop her panic.

Clarke blinks, but she doesn’t ask questions, which Lexa appreciates. Instead, she reaches out to grasp the brunette’s wrist, rubbing her thumb over the joint there. She doesn’t know how Clarke knows the exact spot to calm her, but she does.

“I’m sorry.” Clarke offers genuinely. “We don’t have to talk about it.” She proposes.

Lexa nods, an unspoken blanket of understanding falling over them.

“I’m sorry I slapped you.” The brunette finally says.

“I’m not.” The blonde snorts. “You had every right to.”

“True.” Lexa nods.

Another pause.

“I wish you would have told me about Finn.” She adds.

“It wasn’t really something I wanted to share.”

“Understandable.” She agrees.  

 “I’m sorry.” Clarke repeats again.

“I know.” Lexa acknowledges. “Me too.”

Clarke tilts her head at that. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I was a complete piece of shit. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I gave you the wrong impression. I hadn’t meant to lead you on, or be a ‘tease’ as you had called it.” Lexa makes an air quote when she says the word ‘tease.’

“Oh.” Clarke’s expression falls.” I’m sorry about calling you that too. I just, I don’t know what I’m doing. You just… I like… I act like a complete dumbass around you and I don’t know why.” She babbles nervously. “Especially since..” she trails off.

“Clarke?” Lexa raises a brow, prompting her to continue. White teeth capture the girl’s pink lips nervously.

“Since, uhh…” She rubs the back of her neck. “Since I _did_ want to sleep with you.” Clarke admits shyly. “I Mean, I think you’re really attractive. And you’re beautiful. But I mean.. I like you. Shit. This is not how I wanted to. Ugh. Fuck! I’m sorry.” Clarke groans, hands flying up to cover her face in frustration and embarrassment.

Lexa watches the blonde struggle out loud with herself, finding the hints of clumsily Clarke much more pleasant than the one who was always trying to play it cool.

Deciding that the blonde has tortured herself enough Lexa cuts off.

“Let’s just take this slow, okay?” She suggests. “Friends first.”

“You’d still want to be friends with me?” Bold eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Are you going to give me another reason to not?” Lexa challenges, indirectly relaying that she was going to give the blonde another chance.

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if...” Clarke begins.

“I’m full of surprises, remember?” The brunette tries to joke, hoping that the small jest would help alleviate the recent strain on their friendship.

“Oh, yeah.” Clarke nods stupidly.

“I have one condition though.” Lexa warns.

“Anything.” The blonde abides.

“No more pretending, okay?” She establishes. “For real this time.”

“Deal.” Clarke obliges. “Hello Lexa.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Clarke Griffin, part time artist, full time idiot. I’m working on being better though.”

“Lexa.” She takes the girl’s hand with a tentative smile. “Part time idiot, full time yoga instructor. I’m working on being better though.”

Clarke shakes her head in objection, a small smile playing on her face. And this time, this type of contact feels nice, _really nice_.

\---

“What do you _mean_ you forgave her?” Anya throws her hands up in the air the next morning. “Are you crazy! She doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. And how did that even happen?” Her eyes narrow.

“I saw her.” Lexa tries to downplay.

“I told you not to.” Her sister lectures.

“Okay...” The brunette releases a breath. “So maybe _she_ found _me_.” She reveals.

“How?” Anya glares. “Where?”

“After I left the party,” Lexa admits. “At the park.”

That piece of information is out of the ordinary enough to make the blonde quit her pacing. “Why were you at the park?”

“I needed to clear my mind.” The brunette confesses, much to her sister’s dismay. “Anya, I know you mean well, but I can’t keep carrying this grudge. It’s exhausting.” She sighs. “Can we please let it go?” She begs.

“She better watch her back. I will snap her neck if she even tries to…” her sister’s threats are cut off.

“I know, An. I’ll be careful. We’re taking this slow. As friends.”

“Friends?” The blonde grits her teeth. “She better start back at _acquaintances_.” She grumbles.

“Alright, An.” The brunette chuckles. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I'm not sure I like this chapter. I'm having major writer's block when it comes to this fic.


	11. Something Simply Golden

When Clarke returns to her apartment, she finds it empty; save for the can of her favorite Spaghetti-O’s sitting on the kitchen table with a post-it note attached to it. A bold “C” is written on the paper in her roommate’s handwriting.

She exhales gratefully, tossing her keys into the bowl on the counter before kicking off her shoes, leaving them at the doorway, socks sliding across the floor to the kitchen as she lazily drags herself towards the overly processed sustenance.

Even through her anger, Octavia still cared enough to lay out something for her to eat, probably knowing that the blonde wasn’t doing a very good job of feeding herself. Clarke had been spending more time consuming guilt for the past few days rather than real nourishment.

She pulls her phone out from her back pocket, typing out a ‘thank you’ to the brunette, knowing that she probably went over to Lincoln and Bellamy’s apartment to avoid the blonde. She and Octavia were both fiery in that nature, and Clarke knew that Octavia needed her space to cool off. But the brunette had always been her rock, steadfast and unfleeting. No matter how many arguments they had gotten into while growing up, she was still able to remain loyal to those that mattered. Clarke could give her that space knowing that things would pass after that.

With a sigh, she breaks open the seal from the top, swallowing down a spoonful of the sodium-abundant food. When she’s done, she places the spoon under the faucet, rinsing it before tucking it in its place in the dishwasher. The microwave clock overhead reads 11:11. It’s been a while since she’s gotten home this early. It feels different. Relieving, almost. Childishly, she makes a wish for a better start tomorrow.

Unfortunately, as she gets ready for bed, falling onto the mattress in her bedroom, Clarke can’t bring herself to fall asleep; her internal body clock now used to the late bedtime and endless nights of insomnia. She crawls out of bed restlessly, tripping herself on a pile of old magazines. With a mumbled ‘ _fuck’_ , her gaze narrows at the offending literature, trying to focus on the cover of whatever she had bashed her toe on. When her eyes finally adjust in the dark, her stomach churns uneasily. She used to use them as inspiration for the portraits she created, but now they just make her feel uneasy, dirty, like a womanizer. She quickly rips off the cover, crumpling the page before pitching the wad and the entire stack of Playboy magazines into the wastebasket by the desk. She grimaces at the appearance of the desk as well, covered in paint-stained rags, papers, pencils, old candy wrappers… it’s a disaster.

For the next few hours, she occupies her time with cleaning out her room of all of the _shit_ , to put it simply, she had collected over the last year. Time for a cleanse.

She digs through her desk drawers to make sure she doesn’t have any numbers of many hookups she had encountered, most of which she doesn’t even remember the names of. When the contents inside the desk have been organized, she moves to the table top, blunt nails scratching the dried paint from the surface, trying her best not to damage the finish of the wooden surface. After removing the acrylic blemishes, she sorts through the empty paint tubes, crusty flecks breaking off as she tosses them over her shoulder and into the trash can.

Next she tackles the clothing in her drawers, flinging the ones that that clearly aren’t hers into the now growing pile by her bedroom door. The blonde then spends the rest of the night stuffing the unwanted articles of clothing into a large trash bag, dragging them by her sock covered feet to the front door. It’s late. She’ll take it out in the morning.

Finally spent, she collapses on the couch, feeling somewhat accomplished and completely exhausted, flicking the TV on before allowing herself to be lulled to sleep by the sound of late night talk shows, remote control slipping from her hand as her blue eyes eventually droop closed, unable to fight slumber off any longer.

When she wakes the next morning, it’s to the sound of jingling keys and the click of a latch at the front door. She rolls over with a groan, expecting to see her roommate, but instead finds herself looking groggily into a pair of familiar, warm eyes.

“Wells?!” She gasps, scrambling to her feet, or moreso, attempting to scramble to her feet. In reality, she completely forgets that she’s situated on the couch, only to clumsily fall flat on her ass in her attempt.

“Wha-? Why? How?” she manages to say, rubbing slightly at her bruised rear.

Her friends are at her side in an instant, Octavia chuckling slightly while Wells’ face is more of one of concern.

“Hey, Clarke.” He greets gently, tugging her back onto the couch where they seat themselves more properly.

“Wha-what are you doing here?” She finally manages to voice a coherent sentence.

“Octavia called me.” The boy says patiently. “Said you could really use a friend.”

“I…” She chokes back her tears, sending a grateful glance over to her roommate.

“I’m going to my room.” The brunette shrugs off, sparing her any further embarrassment. Her roommate turns the corner to her bedroom, but Clarke catches the smallest hint of a smile on her face. She really doesn’t deserve Octavia Blake.

“Wow.” She finally turns her attention back to her childhood friend, completely in awe. “You’re really here.” She gapes.

“I am.” He nods warmly, holding out his arms expectantly, his entire being emitting nothing but kindness. “Come on.” He urges, as though they hadn’t been separated for years. Clarke falls into him easily, melting into the boy’s strong and protective embrace; all resolve disappearing as if they hadn’t spent years apart.

He was the boy that helped teach her to tie her shoes. She was the girl who taught him how to draw a tree for their Earth science’s class because he refused to let her simply draw it for him. They were best friends all over again and time simply fell away.

Come to think of it, she really doesn’t deserve Wells Jaha either.

She feels him rubbing at her back gently before pulling back to study her beaten expression. She’s sure the bags under her eyes only add to the already miserable appearance she had taken on over the last few weeks.

 “So, O didn’t really tell me much.” Wells prompts. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on? I haven’t heard from you in a long time.” He accuses playfully, and though his voice is light, the sadness in his eyes is evident. Clarke is hit by a wave of guilt as she casts her eyes away from his all-too-understanding features.

“After Jake…” He barely speaks the name out loud, the suffocating syllable cutting oxygen from both of their lungs. “Passed.” Wells stutters. “What happened?”

 _To you. To us. To everything._ The words hang over them in an unspoken silence.

She tries to formulate some sort of coherent response but finds herself unable to piece anything together that would come even remotely close to what she had felt over the last few years.

“Life.” Clarke shrugs, voice feeling heavy with lead as she sighs the single word.

Wells continues to study her, eyes darting between her blue ones carefully as the corners of his lips turn towards the ground. “There’s no more fight in this Clarke Griffin’s eyes.” He observes dejection. “I don’t like it. The girl I grew up with…”

“We all change.” She defends, though this time it’s not nearly as aggressive as it had been when she directed it at Octavia during their shouting match.

“But always for the _better_.” He says encouragingly and something inside her instantly shatters. Her eyes brim with tears, falling freely from her face and his arms are around her before the first tear even manages to fall into the soft cotton of his shirt.

Wells had always been that way; so kind, so trusting, always seeing the best in people, without knowing their background. He was the type of person who could overlook someone’s flaws and see the good in their hearts without bothering to question their motives.

“I-I’m so lost.” She confesses, muffling the words into the space between his shoulder and neck. “I don’t know what to do.” Her shoulders crumble and it takes her a moment to collect herself. She inhales slowly, running her hands over her face before speaking again.

“Whatever you want to share.” He prompts, knowing not to push, but also coaxing her gently into slowly unbottling her feelings. Wells had always been good at that.

“I…” She swallows. “It’s a really long story.”

“I’ve got time.” He encourages.

So she tells him about her father. She tells him about how she dropped out of medical school out of spite, wanting to hurt her mother as much as she had hurt her for pulling the plug on her father. She tells him about her spiral and the boy that finally picked her up off the ground. She tells him about the art gallery she stumbled upon, and Dante, the old man with the gentle eyes and wise smile who offered her a job. She tells him about how she thought she was going to be okay. She tells him about falling in love with Finn, or so she thought, until he betrayed her trust. She tells him about the disaster she became. She tells him about the drunken hookups, filled with impassioned desperation and overwhelming numbness; a true paradox. And she tells him about Lexa. How beautiful and wonderful and how totally out of league she is. And how she royally and completely _fucked_ up.

“I didn’t want to admit it. But I don’t think I can fight it anymore. I really like her.” She admits, mind quickly plummeting as she continues into a frantic ramble. “And it scares me, Wells. God, I really don’t know what to do. I… Lexa is just…” She can’t even find the words to describe the girl. She doesn’t deserve Lexa Woods.

“I don’t want to be scared. But I am. I really messed up and I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to get back to being friends. _Fuck_. I want to. But I don’t… Maybe that’s a good thing if we don’t. Because… she could _break_ me.” Her voice cracks as she speaks and his hands immediately find hers. 

“Hey.” Wells gives her fingers a squeeze. His hands are rough and calloused, nothing like the ones she craves, but they’re still comforting all the same. “Do you remember when we were seven and some kid decided that it would be a good idea to push you off the swingset at recess?”

“Yes.” She recalls the event from long ago. “Wells, where are you going with this?” She questions with a raise of a brow.

“You pushed her off the swings the very next day and got beat up by her and her brother for it.” The boy grins with amusement.

“Seriously, Wells.” Clarke narrows her gaze. “Where are you going with this?” She groans, remembering just how painful the particular whooping had been. The blonde has no idea why he’s bringing such a terrible memory up again, shifting uncomfortably, but his just rubs his thumbs across her knuckles, holding her in place with small physical assurances.

“Because,” His smile widens, white teeth glowing against his dark complexion. “When they were done, you stood up, wiped your bloody nose on your hand, and then smeared it on Octavia and Bellamy’s shirts.” He chuckles as his eyes brighten. He leans easily against the back of the couch, facing her head on.

“Then you marched straight up to my dad and ratted them out.” He nudges her in the side with a playful smile. “You eventually learned to trust each other, and look at you now. Best friends, all of you.” He grins.

And Clarke breaks into a smile, despite herself.

“You can repair bridges.” Wells continues. “You’re good at it. And Clarke Griffin has always been a fighter. That will _never_ change.” He encourages. “Even when you’re beaten down, you still always stand tall and carry on.”   

“That was elementary school.” Clarke rolls her eyes. “Things aren’t that simple. We’re different now.”

“You are.” He says pointedly, waiting for the words to sink in. “You’re even _better_ now.” He emphasizes.

“No.” She shakes her head, reveling in self-pity. “I’m a mess.”

“So let’s clear up the mess.” He inspires, unaffected by her negative tone.

“I’m trying.” Clarke brushes off with a half-hearted shrug.

“Is that why there’s a pile of trash bags by the door?” He jerks his head knowingly in the direction of the subject of their conversation.

“Pretty much.” She nods.

“What’s in there?” He presses.

“My mistakes.” She frowns. “Still tons more to clean up though.”

“Want some help?” He asks selflessly, already standing to offer her a hand.

They clear out the fridge, ridding it of the mountains of leftovers, pizza crusts, expiring salsa, and other preserved foods that are bound to increase the risk of cancer the blonde would eventually get, should her eating habits continue along said path. It’s not quite the type of “cleaning” she had expected, but it makes her feel lighter anyway.

Another hour later, the apartment is filled with air of reformation and she breathes just a little bit easier.

“Thanks, Wells.” She says appreciatively. “I’ll have to make it up to you.”

“Well...” He smiles mischievously. “You could give me a place to stay for a few days.”

“Done.” She agrees with a nod. “My room is yours. What else?”

“Invite Lexa over for dinner.” He deadpans.

“What?!” Her jaw drops. “I can’t…” She stutters. “I can’t do that! That’s totally not platonic.”

“Sure it is.” He waves a hand dismissively. “Plus, I want to meet her.” He adds genuinely.

“Just use my arrival as an excuse to get her to hang out with you in a group setting.” He formulates, and Clarke can see the gears turning in his head. “What was your accolade in high school again?” He pretends ponder, searching deep into his memory with a tap to his chin. “Princess Charming?” He grins.

“Still hate that name.” She sticks her tongue out.

“Glad some things _haven’t_ changed.” He doesn’t miss a beat.

She gives him a look and he chuckles.

“Seriously, Clarke.” He encourages, “You can fix this. I have all the faith in the world in you. You’re a _good_ person.” The boy insists. “Please don’t let a few mistakes make you believe otherwise about yourself.”

“I…” She feels her eyes welling up again.

 _Damn_. She’s been doing a lot of crying lately.

“No, no.” He says gently. “None of that.” He wraps her in his arms again. “Come on, where’s your phone?” He changes the subject. “Let’s send this Lexa girl a text, shall we?”

\---   
  
Lexa wakes the next morning to a series of incessant buzzing. After begrudgingly rolling over to bury her face in her pillow, wrapping herself even tighter in the sheets, the sound finally stops, only to chime a moment later, signifying that she had received a text message.

Peeping one eye open, she reaches out one hand to retrieve her phone, unlocking it a moment when she sees that the sender is none other than her older sister.

_I know you’re awake. Get breakfast with me before we meet with the planner! –A_

With a chuckle, she hashes out the details with the blonde before rolling out of bed to get ready. The shower makes her feel lighter and relieved as the suds cascade down her skin and by the time she meets her sister in the parking lot of her apartment complex, she can’t hide the smile on her face, previous strain from the prior week slowly subsiding. She may not have completely forgiven Clarke, but she had moved on enough to give herself a moment to breathe. She didn’t have to trust Clarke again, but she could still be in her company. That was more than tolerable. Despite it all, she had missed the blonde’s silly antics and nervous ramblings.

“What’s got you so giddy?” Anya quirks a brow, noting the smile that had snuck itself onto her features.

“I don’t know. I just feel good.” She shrugs, trying to play it cool.

“Good.” Her sister gives her a nod, unaware of the further implications. “I’m gonna need your positivity if I’m going to survive today.” The blonde rolls her eyes.

“This will be fun.” Lexa tries to assuage.

“Stressful.” Anya retorts back.

“Fine.” She chuckles. “Stressful, but fun.” She compromises, nudging her sister in the ribs with a smile.

“Okay. Tone down the pep.” Anya teases, shoving her away. “It’s too early and you’re killing my vibe.”

When they arrive at the planner’s office, she feels her sister shift uncomfortably in the waiting area.

“It’s gonna be fine.” The brunette tries to assure. Anya looks like a deer in headlines, completely overwhelmed by the lace décor, soft pastels, and ridiculous amount of cursive scrawl and quotes relating to life-long dedication and commitment.

Before Lexa gets a moment to calm her sister, a dark haired woman with perfectly polished nails and red lips approaches them.

“Hello ladies. I’m Becca.” She extends a hand towards Lexa. “You must be Anya.” She assumes. “Nice to meet you.”

“Actually,” Lexa corrects. “I’m Lexa, Maid of Honor. My sister,” She gestures over her shoulder at Anya, who quickly steels her face to one of indifference. “Is the one getting married.”

The woman tilts her head, shifting her weight to her hip as she laces her hands in front of her. “My apologies.” She says calmly, unaffected by Anya’s cold appearance.

They start with a list; catering, flowers, a small venue, and an officiant. Becca’s assistant, Peri, brings them tea and pastries as they continue through the morning to compile and short, but intimate guest list. The Wood’s side is rather tiny, not having any family to really invite. Roan’s parents, a group of small friends, and a few “plus ones” that have been allocated to close friends like Lincoln, make up the majority of the list. The total is less than 50 people.

“Do you want me to count a plus one for you too?” The woman asks, pointing to the seat at the table arrangement on the page in front of her, turning to Lexa with curious eyes.

The yoga instructor bites her lip, debating the suggestion. “I…”

“Ehh.” The blonde brushes off, sensing her sister’s hesitance.  “We can figure it out later.” Anya says. Lexa shoots her a grateful look before returning her attention to the wedding planner.

Becca nods, setting the layout aside for the time being before pulling out another set of papers.

“Now colors and themes.” She crosses her legs with poise, hooking one ankle around the other as they drape the side. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“Whatever’s easiest.” Anya shrugs. “And doesn’t cost any arm or a leg.” She tacks on. Lexa can tell that Anya is starting to grow frustrated, overwhelmed, and incredibly restless. Things like this were never her forte. Emotions and feelings it seems were never Woods women’s strengths.

“Seafoam green is quite popular amongst the young couples these days.” The planner suggests with an teasing smile.

“Seafoam…” Anya grunts. “A fancy way to say whale piss.”

Lexa gives the woman an apologetic look, still having more patience that her older sister at the moment. She knew that Anya could be difficult, shutting down especially during stressful or high pressure situations. Additionally, the blonde never liked drawing attention to herself, so to have to plan an entire wedding, centered around herself and her fiancé wasn’t exactly bringing out her most redeeming qualities.

But to both siblings’ surprise, Becca seems unfazed. In fact, she seems almost amused as she studies the eldest sister inquisitively. After a suspended silence, Anya’s shoulders shrink back. It’s almost comical to see her sister being beat at her own game.

“You don’t strike me as a person that cares too much for pastels or color in general.” Becca observes with a patient smile.

Lexa can’t help but grin knowingly, stifling a giggle when Anya kicks her quickly in the shin from under the table. She schools her face back to something more serious and returns her attention to the planner.

“What do you think of a classic black and white wedding with a simple gold accent?” The older woman suggests. Before Anya can even speak, Becca pushes her chair back delicately, shuffling to the bookshelf behind her to dig through the collection.

With her back turned, Anya shoots her a glare, physically cueing the brunette into her frustration with the situation, but Lexa does her best to remain impassive as Becca clears her throat, returning with a particularly new looking book, clearly not having been opened as often as the others. After flipping through to the center tab, a spread of very formal, yet elegant table arrangements color the page.

“What’s your opinion on doing something like this?” She points a perfectly manicured finger to the picture in front of them.

She catches her sister’s jaw twitch, lips pressed together in a thin line, trying her hardest to suppress a smile that Lexa, having years of practice, detects all too easily. Anya never wanted to give away her feelings, and only a select few had ever mastered the art of reading the blonde’s stealthy “ticks” that exposed her true emotions.

“She loves it.” The young brunette answers for her knowingly.

“You sure?” Becca asks, lowering her glasses to study her sister with a challenging gaze. She wants to hear her say it. The room falls silent as a sort of blissful air swirls around them.

“Positive.” Anya’s resolve finally cracks, eyes softening as her lips tilt up by just a few millimeters.

“Good.” The wedding planner claps her hands once with a nod. “Let me get started on some designs.”

Anya’s only response is another exasperated sigh, to which Lexa chuckles and receives another kick to the shin. The pain is completely worth it.

\---  
  
It’s late afternoon by the time the two siblings leave Becca’s office, a stack of papers and contact information in Anya’s hand and a bag of color pallets and samples in Lexa’s. Their next stop is to the flower shop, which Lexa is dreading. She’s gone to flower shops before, but this one in particular, she hasn’t been there in a while, over a year, actually.

The last time she made a purchase there sent her plummeting into a panic attack, still in disbelief over the fact that the petals would be laid across a grave, rather than a bed.

“You sure about this?” Anya pauses, grasping her hand to stop her in her tracks. They’re standing in the middle of the parking lot and emerald orbs dart around the shopping complex, half willing God to just send a car around the corner to knock her out of her misery.

“Positive.” She says all too weakly. “It’s the best shop in the area.” She says knowingly.

“Lex,” Her sister softens. “I can come back another time.” She offers. “It’s okay if you don’t want to be here.”

The brunette takes a moment to calm her nerves, eyes fluttering shut as she inhales slowly, exhaling even slower with a hiss through her teeth. Anya waits.

“Okay.” Green eyes open slowly, adjusting to the afternoon sun. “Let’s go.” She tilts her head up, squaring her shoulders as she takes a step forward.

When the bell above the door rings, something inside Lexa’s stomach curls uneasily, but she presses through it.

“Hello!” The elderly woman greets. As Anya and the woman start to discuss their need for a simple white flower, Lexa feels the walls start to cave in around her. Luckily, her sister senses her discomfort and apologies to the shop owner brisky. Anya catches her just before her breathing starts to grow ragged, quickly ushering her outside and back into the car, rolling the windows down to circulate some air between them.

“Hey,” Her sister says gently. “Talk to me.”

“I…” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it.”

“One day, you’ll be able to walk in there again. Regardless, I’m proud of you.” Anya encourages.

\---

Their final stop is to the bridal parlor that was specifically recommended by Becca herself, stating that they are pretty attentive but also give you plenty of space, perfect for Anya’s persona.

Lexa sits on the plush white leather sofa, sipping on a small sample of champagne while Anya grumbles from behind the curtain.

“You okay in there?” Lexa chuckles, calling out to her sister.

“Zipper’s stuck.” Anya grunts.

“I’m coming in.”  The brunette shakes her head light-heartedly.

“No, no! I’ve got it.” Her sister retorts all too quickly.

“Too late.” Lexa sets down her glass before stepping inside the dressing room. When she does, she finds her sister fidgeting with the zipper lining the back of the dress with trembling hands.

Their eyes meet in the mirror and Lexa can see her sister’s brimming with vulnerable tears.

“This is really happening.” Anya’s voice is shaky as she diverts her gaze, turning her attention to the zipper again. Lexa knows she’s just trying to distract herself.

“Damn it!” The older woman grumbles.

“An,” Lexa takes a step forward, placing her hand gently over her sisters. “It’s okay.” She tries to assuage. Anya had been steeling herself the entire day, but even the strongest of us break sometimes.

“Nothing’s going to change.” She assures, though both sisters know that’s the complete opposite of the truth. “You’ll always have me.” Lexa promises.

Anya throws her arms around her sister, burying her face into the crook of her neck as her resolve falls away.

“I love you, An.” Lexa soothes.

“I love you too, Lex.” Anya mumbles into her shoulder.

Lexa rubs her sister’s back, scratching lightly at the base of her spin the way she remembers their mother doing.

“This dress.” Lexa says when her tears subside. “It’s beautiful.”

“I think…” Anya pauses, straightening. She stands in front of the mirror, brushing her fingers over the fabric, fingertips tracing over the hemline of the delicate lace accents. “I think this is the one.” She says breathlessly. Their gazes meet in the mirror and both sisters looking at one another with teary, bright eyes.

\---  
Amongst the hustle, Lexa gets a text from Clarke. Anya receives a similar one from Octavia inviting them both to the roommate’s apartment to meet their friend, Wells, and to have dinner the following evening.

Anya rolls her eyes when Lexa reads the text out loud.

“I know you don’t like her, but it sounds like everybody’s going to be there.” Lexa defends.

“If she pulls any shit, I swear…” Anya jams the key into the ignition with a clench of her jaw.

“Yeah, I know.” Lexa laughs. “You’ll rip her a new one.” She says knowing all too well that her sister’s threats weren’t to be taken lightly. “Just come spend time with me.”

“Fine.” Anya agrees. They both send their text replies to confirm.

Something inside Lexa’s chest starts racing. She was going to see Clarke again. Granted, the rest of their friends would be in attendance as well, but still… They were going to start over, right? Or at least try to get back on track. But something was different this time. This time she _knew._ She knew that Clarke had feelings for her, and while the flirting and banter had always seemed light and easy, she had taken it all with a grain of salt, not quite believing that it had been genuine. But Clarke’s confession the night before had confirmed her suspicions. And most terrifyingly, Anya’s observation about her feelings for the blonde had been revealed to her as well, bringing the thought to the forefront of her subconscious.


	12. Wine, Dine, and Peace of Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two slowly work on getting comfortable with each other again.

“Hey, O?” The blonde knocks lightly on her roommate’s bedroom door. “O, can I talk to you?”

“One sec.” She hears the brunette reply, followed by the sound of shuffling from within. A moment later, the door opens to Octavia standing before her, now dressed in workout attire. “What’s up?” She asks carefully.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She says guiltily as she eyes the rolled out yoga mat on the floor.

“Don’t worry about it.” Octavia opens the door wider, stepping to the side as Clarke wrings her hands, standing nervously in the doorway.

“Oh my god.” The brunette rolls her eyes, grabbing a hold of her elbow. “Get in here, you goof!”

The blonde follows obediently as Octavia bounces onto the bed. “Where’s Wells?” She pats the bed before shifting positions so that her heels are pressed comfortably together. She straightens her back, waiting for Clarke to join her.

“He’s in my room napping.” Clarke explains. “Said he drove all night to get here.”

“He’s a good friend.” Octavia shrugs.

“ _You’re_ a good friend too.” The blonde says gratefully.

“Ehh.” Her roommate simply shrugs.

“Really, O. I can’t believe you got Wells to come here.” She continues. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

There’s a pause between the two.

“I just couldn’t stand watching you destroy yourself any longer.” Octavia says, eyes vulnerable and Clarke is hit with a huge wave of guilt. Her hurting wasn’t just effecting her, but everyone around her that she loved in cared about.

“I…” She doesn’t know how to express how thankful she is. “I… I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” Octavia shrugs. “But you really shouldn’t be telling me that. Lexa’s the one who needs to hear it. You have to…”

“I know.” She can tell that Octavia is waiting for her to elaborate, but she tries to keep on track with one train of thought first. “I’m working on it. But I need you to know just sorry I am for everything I put _you_ through too. I want to apologize to _you._ Because like you said, no one else would be able to put up with my bullshit.” She takes a lighthearted jab at herself.

“I didn’t mean it like…”

“No. It’s okay.” Clarke cuts her off. “Really, you may have been joking, but there’s still some truth to it.” Clarke admits. “I’ve been a real ass and you’ve been nothing but patient with it. And I’ve been a really shitty friend in return."

“Not really shitty. Just, uhh, kinda shitty.”

Clarke returns the smile. “No. You can say it. I’m really shitty.”

“Look, I know it’s been hard you.” Octavia sighs. “Especially recently.”

“But it’s not an excuse. You’re my best friend.”

“Ride or die.” Octavia nods in agreement, not missing a beat.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“You know you’re already forgiven.” The brunette says pointedly. “By me at least.”

“I still want to make it up to you. I’m making dinner for Wells and hopefully the rest of our friends. Would you want to come? I mean, would you do me the honors?”

“So formal.” The brunette scrunches up her nose. “It’s weird.” She teases.

“I’m trying to be more of a gentlewoman and less of an ass. You know, classy?”

The brunette chuckles. “This is a little too classy. Find a happy medium.”

“Working on it.”

\---

The evening of Clarke’s dinner party, the artist falls into a fit of anxiety.

“Have you seen my snapback?” She riffles through the apartment, practically barreling into Wells in her attempt to locate the accessory in question. “The one my dad gave me?” She turns to Octavia hoping to yield better results.

“Not since you had it this morning.” Her roommate shakes her head.

“Fuck!” She mutters to herself. “This is a bad sign.” She convinces herself, storming into the kitchen.

“Calm down, Clarke.” Wells takes her gently by her shoulders. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Really, Griffin.” The brunette nods along in agreement, settling across from her on a barstool at the island. “She was fine at yoga when you came up in conversation.” Octavia attempts to assuage. It has the opposite effect.

“Oh no!” She panics, practically slicing her finger open while attempting to divide the cured meats into bite-sized pieces on the cutting board. “You talked about me?!” Her eyes widen in horror.

“Just about tonight.” Octavia chuckles as Wells takes the knife from her hands knowingly, giving her a gentle shove in the direction of the cheese platter. “Geez, Clarke. Breathe will ya? You’re gonna give yourself an aneurysm.”

The blonde fidgets with the hem of her collar before setting on the next task. “I just don’t want to screw this up again.”

“You probably still will.” The brunette teases.

Clarke takes a moment to freeze in her action, raising her gaze to her roommate with a defensive glower.

“But in an endearing way.” Her roommate recovers with a laugh.

“Thanks for your support.” Clarke replies flatly, busying her nervous hands with arranging the cheese cubes and Swiss slices.

“No problem.” Octavia winks, swiping a slice from the perfect semicircle Clarke had just created.

“O, come on!” She groans, attempting to rearrange the pieces to fill in the gap that was now exposed.

Wells approaches with a grin, scraping the meats off the board and onto the platter with care, shifting them so that they align neatly next to the cheese that Clarke had been compulsively fiddling with.

“Come on, Clarke.” He says with a light-hearted chuckle. “Let’s get you a drink. I think you could use one.” He suggests.

The blonde simply nods, accepting the glass that had miraculously appeared in her hand, holing it steady for her friend to pour a round to each of them to nurse while waiting for their guests to arrive.

Raven and Bellamy arrive first, together, as per expected. Lincoln in tow as he makes his way over to Octavia. The movement is familiar and easy as he hooks his arm around the brunette’s shoulder and she instantly melts under him.

They settle onto the couch while Bellamy and Raven join her and Wells at the island for a glass.

Just as she finishes off her glass of wine, the doorbell rings and she tenses yet again.

“What if it’s her?” She hisses under her breath to Wells, who is already grabbing more empty wine glasses for the upcoming guests’ entrance.

“Consider everyone else is already here, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance that it is.” He laughs warmly.

_Shit._

She is not ready. She needs to mentally prepare herself for the…

Lincoln opens the door to a breathtaking figure standing in the hall of the apartment complex. Lexa steps inside with an aura that draws Clarke’s blue orbs directly to her and the rest of the room falls away.

She’s vaguely aware of Octavia skipping up to her boyfriend and Anya following Lexa into the apartment. But just barely.

A clearing of a throat and a jab to her ribs draws her out of her trance, hitting her at the perfect angle to cause her to yelp out as her most ticklish area gets triggered. Lexa’s head turns in her direction and Anya scowls.

_Fuck._

She waves dumbly, cheeks burning as Lexa returns her own polite wave before turning her attention back to Lincoln and Octavia, chatting animatedly with her hands.

Clarke watches the girl with rapt attention, elegant knuckles flexing as her wrists roll in sync with her words, eyes glowing and expressive.

_Griffin, you are so fucked._

“Clarke?” Wells nudges her again, bumping her shoulder to pull her back to reality yet again. “You wanna offer her a drink?” He gestures to the wine bottles.

“Oh!” She stumbles. “Yeah! Good idea.” She fumbles with the glass with shaking hands. Bellamy eyes her curiously but doesn’t say anything, too focused on Raven’s hand placed lightly on his knee. The blonde pours a glass of white wine for Lexa, recalling her preference at the art show, and a glass of red for Anya before approaching the two siblings just as Octavia and Lincoln wrap up whatever it was that they had previously been discussing.

“Hey!” She greets with a nervous bite to her lip.

“Hi, Clarke!” Lexa smiles back, brilliantly and Clarke feels her knees go weak.

“Clarke.” Anya tilts her chin up with a grunt. Clarke gazes nervously between the two siblings as Lexa pinches her older sister’s forearm before the blonde replies back with a peppier tone. “How are you?” She says more cheerily.

“Uhh. I’m good.” She gulps. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting us.” Lexa comes to her rescue.

“No Roan?” She asks.

“He couldn’t make it.” Lexa frowns, gazing sadly at her sister. “He’s wrapping up some stuff for work out of town again.”

“He travels a lot.” Clarke notes.

“Yeah.”

The conversation fades with the small talk and the trio stands uncomfortably at the doorway. 

“Whatcha got there?” Lexa facilities, smoothly diverting the discussion elsewhere.

“Oh!” She holds out the glasses in her hand. “These are for you. I know you like whites.” She passes the Chardonnay to the brunette.  “And I took a guess with you, Anya.” She holds the Merlot to the blonde.

“Thank you, Clarke.” Lexa smiles sweetly.

Clarke nods awkwardly, shuffling her weight anxiously as Anya eyes her glass. “Uhh, I guess I’m gonna go check on the food now.” She announces stupidly. “Make yourself comfortable.” She says with a careful glance at Anya before backing away slowly, scurrying off towards the kitchen.

_You’re sinking worse than the Titanic, Griffin. You’re a fucking Bitanic._

—

The brunette watches Clarke’s retreating figure with curiosity. She’s witnessed Clarke nervous and bashful before, but this was something else entirely. Before she has more time to ponder it, Anya takes her by the wrist to the couch. Just as she’s about to take her first sip of her drink, the older Woods snatches her glass from her grasp.

Anya takes a tentative sip of her drink, smacking her lips with serious expression across her feature before pursing her lips. Lexa watches, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Okay.” Anya nods after a moment. “You can have it now.”

“Was that really necessary?” Lexa huffs.

“Yes.” The blonde affirms in a deadpan.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit much?” She tilts her head accusingly.

“Absolutely not.” Her sister says stubbornly.

She sighs in frustration. “I thought you were going to behave.” She hisses.

“I will.” Anya whispers back. “But how do I know if she will?” She leans slightly to glance over Lexa’s shoulder, narrowing her eyes in a dark, dangerous glare.

“Quit threatening.” The brunette gives her sister a nudge with her knee. “Look at her. She already looks like she’s going to pee herself.”

“Good.” Anya grumbles.

“Anya.” Lexa says sternly.

“Lexa.” Anya retorts just as assertively.

“Nothing’s going to happen. Knock it off.” The younger sister argues. “Look at all the people here.”

“I know how you get with pretty girls.” Anya says notes. “I’m not stupid. I have eyes. Clarke’s an ass, but she’s still hot. And you love blondes.” She says knowing all-too-well that she’s right.

“How do I know she won’t try to pull one over on you again? Try to seduce you into her room.” Her sister nods her head down the hallway, lifting her index finger from her glass and pointing in around the corner.

“That’s actually Octavia’s room.” Is all Lexa can manage to say in response.

Anya gives her a pointed look.

“You have absolutely no faith in me.” Lexa reprimands with a dejected frown.

Anya’s shoulders instantly fall at the accusation. “Lex, I didn’t…”

“I appreciate how protect you are, An.” Lexa cuts off, her eyes falling to her glass as she swirls the alcohol slightly. “But you have to let me live a little, be my own person.” She urges gently. “You won’t be here forever and I’ve got to learn to stand on my own two feet once you’re gone.”

Her hands find the blonde’s, entwining their fingers with a squeeze.

“Okay.” Anya nods. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She smiles. “Forgiven” She says tenderly. She turns to look behind her, catching a glimpse of the group in the kitchen, recognizing Raven and Bellamy sitting on the stools at the island. The Latina has her elbows propped on the granite, picking at the platter in front of her, while Bellamy has an arm draped around the girl’s waist as they speak with Clarke and whom she can only assume is Wells.

The two hustle around the kitchen, moving in sync, almost as if it were a dance between the two. There seems to be a deeper, silent communication between them. She observes as Wells gives Clarke some sort of knowing look and the blonde flushes red before smacking him playfully on the arm. He chuckles back in response before picking her up, spinning her in the air.

It makes Lexa uneasy, despite her own insistence that they take things slowly as just friends.

“They’re close.” She feels the couch dip next to her. She looks over the find Octavia watching the scene in the kitchen with a kind grin.

“I bet.” She nods. “They seem like a great pair.” She forces herself to stay polite.

Octavia snorts. “Yeah. He keeps her sane.” She laughs. “You should have seen her before you got here. She’s a mess when it comes to you.”

“I…” Lexa looks to Anya for backup but finds that she’s deeply engaged in a conversation with her best friend. No wonder why Octavia had taken to striking up conversation with her.

“We’re about to eat.” Octavia urges. “You wanna sit next to me?” Her yoga student offers.

“Sure.” She smiles back, accepting the hand that is held out for her.

Their meal consists of a slow-roasted lamb shoulder with a blueberry wine reduction, potato gratin, and a side of steamed vegetables. She’s highly impressed to say the least. She’s even more impressed when she learns that Clarke had been the master chef behind it all. She eyes the Spaghetti-O loving girl with curiosity but the blonde barely manages to look up from her plate the entire night, pushing her vegetables across her plate.

So she tunes into the conversations around her. She gets to know Raven and Bellamy more, finding their dynamic both convoluted and amusing. Wells discusses his work in governmental campaigns and political affairs. His list of accomplishments is nothing less than impressive. Despite the playfulness of the bickering between Octavia and Lincoln through their meal, Clarke remains uncharacteristically quiet. Lexa only manages to catches her glancing in her direction once, but the blonde quickly diverts her gaze down to her food. 

By the end of dinner, Anya seems to have tamed herself, sipping casually on her wine as she leans back in her chair. Clarke, in contrast, looks desperate to escape.

“I’m going to do dishes.” The blonde stands abruptly, pushing back her chair from the table in haste.

“Want help with…” Wells tries to offer.

Lexa takes her chance, interrupting him. “Let me.” She blurts.

“I can’t let you do that. You’re the guest.” Wells insists.

Lexa tilts her chin at the boy and Octavia tugs him back into his seat.

“Go ahead.” Octavia nods. “Thank you.”

Lexa returns a swift smile before trailing after Clarke to the kitchen. She finds her practically cowering in the corner by the sink. She stands in a daze, wringing the sponge in her hand as the faucet continues to run water over nothing.

“Hey.” She greets cautiously.

“Oh.” The blonde stiffens. “H-hey, Lexa.” She blinks, clumsily turning off the water.

“Everything okay?” She tiptoes.

“Yeah!” The blonde replies too perkily. “Dandy! Just dandy!” She nods before grimacing.

“Dandy?” Lexa quirks a brow. “Clarke, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yup.” Clarke squeaks, wide eyed.

Lexa cross her arms and the blonde chews the inside of her lip nervously.

Her arms fall to her side as she takes a step towards the girl, back against the counter.

“Anya really hates me.” Clarke finally says dejectedly.

“Give her time.” Lexa urges.

“I’m really am sorry.” The blonde apologies again.

“I know.” Lexa nods. “She does too. It’ll just take a little longer with her. She’s good at holding grudges. It’s not healthy.”

“You don’t hold onto anything?” Clarke asks shyly.

Lexa hesitates.

“Sorry. That isn’t my business. You can tell me when…” She pauses. “If you ever trust me again.” She says sadly.

A part of her feels bad, but she’s also appreciative of Clarke handling the situation with such maturity. Yet with the way her blue eyes keep darting nervously to the brunette, then to the dishes in her hand, she looks like she’s going to burst.

“You should say it.” Lexa eases.

“Clarke, you look like you’re going to explode.” Lexa says gently. “Just say it.”

“S-say what?” Big blue eyes respond guiltily.

“Whatever it is that you’ve been holding in all night.” She coaxes.

Clarke swallows so hard that Lexa actually hears it.

“You, umm, you… I just… you look beautiful tonight.” The blonde says hesitantly before tensing, squeezing her eyes shut, hand flying up to shield her face.

Lexa blinks for a moment, processing the compliment before breaking into a smile, which turns into a quiet giggle that grows into a bubbling laughter, escaping from her lips as she throws her head back.

“That’s it?” She asks, highly amused. Clarke turns an even deeper shade of crimson as a result.

“No!” Lexa reaches out to place her hand on the blonde’s forearm. “I’m not laugh at you. It’s just… well, _that’s_ what you’ve been holding in all night?”

The blonde’s shoulder sag as her eyes peel open slowly and her hands fall. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” She gasps. “No!” She giggles. “That was…” She pauses to find the right word to voice her endearment. “That was sweet.”

“I didn’t want to overstep.” The blonde says nervously.

Lexa tilts her head as she observes the girl in front of her. Clarke was normally confident to a fault, but this was new. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“I didn’t want to seem out of line.” Clarke blushes. “I… I want to do this right this time. I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to just get in your pants or something. I want us to be friends, but I don’t know where to draw the line. Or where you’ve drawn the line, I guess. But I really…”

“Clarke!” Lexa cuts off. “Stop overthinking everything. You’re doing just fine.” She consoles. “I’m not saying that I trust you, but I know that you’re trying. Tonight was evidence of that. But it’s going to take some time.” She says realistically. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, Clarke. I just think you made a bad decision.”

“Okay.” Clarke nods. “That’s fair.”

“Clarke,” She begins carefully. “Relax. We’re okay. I already know you’re sorry.” She says sensibly.

The blonde nods.

“So, do you want to wash or dry?” The brunette asks, turning her attention to the sponge still clasped in Clarke’s hand.

“I’ll wash.” The blonde offers.

They settle into an easy rhythm, the sound of running water and the murmur of conversation in the dining area floating around them. Somehow they find comfort in the silence of the space between them.

When they’re done, Clarke shuts off the sink, turning hesitantly to the brunette who meets her gaze with curious emerald eyes.

“Do you remember when I said I wasn’t sacred of anything?” She asks hesitantly.

“I do.” Lexa nods.

“I was lying.” The blonde confesses.

“I figured.” Lexa shrugs. “Everyone’s scared of something.”

“Yeah.” Clarke hums.

“So, what _are_ you scared of, Clarke Griffin?” Lexa prompts, giving the blonde the encouraging push to further the conversation deeper.

Blue eyes search hers before answering in almost a whisper.

“You.”

“Me?” Lexa’s eyes widen.

“You scare me, Lexa. I don’t want to hurt you and I’m so scared of messing up again and ruining our friendship.” Clarke admits.

The words sink in and Lexa realizes how much more there is to the blonde standing in front of her with her heart on her sleeve. Clarke Griffin was multi-faceted, complexly layered. She was insufferably cocky at times, annoyingly haughty, secretly clumsy, stupidly endearing, and so fascinatingly vulnerable.

“You’re overthinking.” Lexa responds with equal vulnerability. “You scare me too.”

“But in a bad way.” The blonde says ruefully, bowing her head.

“No.” Lexa says simply. “You just scare me.”

Their eyes meet and something quiet falls over the pair.

Clarke’s timid ‘why?’ floats between them.

_You could matter._

Before she gets to answer, Raven walks in with the remaining dishes piled in her arms, Bellamy following on her heels.

“Leftovers!” She announces before glancing between the two with an apologetic smile. “Uhh, did I interrupt?” She frowns.

“No. You’re fine.” Lexa shakes her head as the two additions busy themselves with putting containers into the fridge.

“Uhh, Clarke.” Bellamy’s low voice is heard from behind the refrigerator door. “What’s Jake’s hat doing in here?” He pulls out the familiar snapback that Lexa had stolen quite a few times over the course of getting to know the blonde.

Clarke’s face turns beat red as she quickly makes a dash for the snapback.

“Do you always leave your hat in the fridge?” The brunette asks playfully. The blonde scrunches up her nose and sticks out her tongue. The air suddenly feels lighter.

—

Bellamy and Raven had since left to retire for the night.

Wells is playing chess with Octavia, and Clarke can tell he’s going easy on her, purposely playing moves to give her an advantage as her roommate bites her nail in thought, trying her hardest to strategize against the chess prodigy.

Anya and Lincoln had moved into the kitchen to chat over coffee.

The evening is nice and easy.

“Who’s Jake?” Lexa asks, legs crossed as she sits across from Clarke on the couch.

“Uhh,” Clarke adjusts the brim of the hat that had since returned to its rightful place on her head. “My dad. He passed away.”

“Oh my…” Lexa gasps. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t…”

“It’s okay.” The blonde shakes her head. “You didn’t know.”

“Still…” The brunette sighs longingly. “It’s unfair losing the people we love.”

“Terrifying.” Clarke agrees with a shudder. A somber feeling blankets over them.

“We can talk about something else?” Lexa suggests.

“We don’t have to talk at all.” Clarke smirks.

Lexa narrows her gaze but the blonde stands, offering her a polite hand, nodding towards the studio. Lexa had never been inside, but she’s seen glimpses of it whenever she had come over in the past.

The blonde leads them down the hallway in into her workplace, stepping carefully over the tarp to switch on the small floor lamp. She makes her way towards the closet, gesturing for Lexa to join her at her side. The brunette starts flipping through the canvases with silent appreciation.

Her breath catches audibly when she gets to the back, pulling out a particular old, but sentimental painting.

“That’s my dad.” Clarke says. She expects pity, remorse, but what Lexa says throws her through a loop.

“He looks so alive.” She smiles admiringly. “His eyes, they’re like yours.” She continues. “Incredibly expressive. He seems like a great man.”

“He was.” Clarke agrees.

“Is.” Lexa shakes her head.

“What do you mean?”

“He still influences you to this day.” Lexa points to her hat. It’s such a simple gesture, but it elicits such a response that Clarke has to try her best not to cry at the brunette’s kind words.

“Thank you.” She croaks.

“You’re welcome.” Lexa says genuinely. “It’s amazing how well you capture people.” The brunette compliments, turning her attention back to the art. “You really should consider doing commissions.”

“I don’t know anyone who needs one.” Clarke deflects, attempting to sound nonchalant.

She watches as an idea flashes across Lexa’s features, eyes shining.

“I do.”

“What?” Her brows knit in confusion.

“This.” Lexa reaches into her back pocket to pull out her phone. She swipes through a few apps before revealing an image of her sister gazing lovingly at her hand, admiring the ring around her finger.

“You want me to paint… Anya?” She asks, unable to mask the surprise in her voice. 

“Well,” Lexa bites her lip. “You don’t have to. I just thought it would be a sentimental wedding gift.” The brunette explains before frowning with a sigh. “Maybe it’s stupid. Never mind.”

“No!” Clarke places a hand on the girl’s forearm before retracting it hesitantly. “I mean, no.” She clears her throat. “It’s sweet and really thoughtful.” The artist compliments. “I’ll do it.”

“Really?” Lexa asks.

“Yeah.” Clarke affirms with a sharp, determined nod of her head.

“Wow!” The brunette beams. “Thank you!”

Before Clarke knows what’s happening, Lexa’s arms are around her shoulders, giving her a grateful hug to express her gratitude.

Her entire body goes numb.

_Lexa Woods is hugging you. Pull yourself together. Use your arms. Use your brain, Griffin._

She barely manages to wrap her hands around the girl’s waist before Lexa is pulling back again.

“So how much do you charge?” The brunette asks.

“I…” She hadn’t thought about it and honestly, the last thing she wanted to do was take advantage of the brunette.

“Depends on the style and the size of the canvas.” She decides to say. It’s a good, ambiguous answer for the time being.

“The style?” Lexa tilts her head adorably.

“Watercolor, oil, etc.” The blonde rambles, heart internally melting at the brunette’s confusion.

“Can you show me?” The yoga instructor requests.

Clarke nods, retrieving her laptop from her room before returning to the studio. It starts up with a gentle whir and they settle with their backs against the wall, legs splayed out as they glance over at the laptop resting on the blonde’s thighs.

“So watercolors are softer, while oils are typically bolder and the colors are kind of loud.” The artist begins to explain, feeling more in her element as she continues. “I think you would typically like watercolors if you were to paint. They’re easier to handle. They dry fast and are light enough that any mistakes can quickly be covered up relatively easily, or blended so that they don’t show as much anymore.” She says, typing in a few keywords to pull up an example, to which Lexa nods.

“Those are nice.” She compliments.

“They are.” Clarke agrees. “But I like acrylics and oils.” She starts typing again before clicking the search button. The screen fills with bright still-lifes and captured moments.

“Oils are a slower process. It takes longer for each coat to dry and should be done in layers. It’s pretty difficult, I’ll be honest. But in the end, it’s worth it. You just have to be patient with it. They make things livelier and brighter. Plus, the colors last for lifetimes while watercolors kind of fade over time.” She rambles enthusiastically.

Lexa gives her a tender smile. “I guess I overlooked those in the past.” The brunette says. “I typically would go for watercolors, something safe.”

“And now?” Clarke asks.

“I think an oil portrait would be a nice change.” Lexa grins.

“Me too.” The blonde smiles back, their eyes locking as the unspoken secret dances in the room around them.

“Ready to go?” A third voice startles them both and the blonde slams the laptop shut. They look up to find Anya watching them with guarded curiosity.

“Yeah.” Lexa stands, brushing herself off as Clarke shifts the laptop onto floor by her feet. “Be right out.” She says as Anya spins on her heels with a single nod.

“Thanks for this, Clarke.” She says with a wink, placing her finger over her lips.

“Secret’s safe with me.” Clarke smiles back.

“I’ll see you around, Clarke.” Lexa says with a wave, exiting just as smoothly as she always had.

“Definitely.” The blonde nods, biting back the urge to flail in excitement over the way the evening had concluded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda like nervous Clarke.
> 
> Sidenote, are people even reading this anymore or has everybody migrated to Something Tragic?


	13. It's Complicated, But Still Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke helps Lexa. Lexa helps Clarke.

Wells stays with them for another three days before having to return back to his white collar job in the Big Apple. He programs his GPS to navigate him back to New York, with promises to stay in touch and visit more frequently. The commitment goes both ways and the band of DC friends pledges to the do the same when given the chance to head up North. Clarke gives him a final hug and he places a kiss to her temple.

“Remember what I said.” Wells whispers into her ear as he parts. “Change for the better.”

She gives a nod and tightens her grip around his shoulders.

Thanks, Wells.” She says gratefully.

“Anytime, Princess.” He gives her a final squeeze around the waist before turning his attention to Octavia, holding his arms out expectantly. The trio of friends clings to one another for a moment longer before Wells is climbing into his car, starting the engine. The two roommates look across the parking lot as the car grows smaller and smaller while nearing the horizon, sending the boy off with teary eyed waves.

As for Clarke and Lexa, they start back slowly, picking up the pieces over easy conversations. “How are you” and “hope your day is going well” texts are sent from both girls. Not quite the same as their texting had been before, but’s still progress and they take it at a comfortable pace, picking up the previously fragmented pieces of their friendship over the span of the following days. They discuss how classes are going, the silly habits of their friends and family members, and other surface-level things.

 _Play it safe._ She reminds herself. 

She’s still hesitant, careful with her word choices, not wanting to overstep. But the wariness disappears almost two weeks later when one afternoon, her phone starts ringing incessantly.

She sets down her brush with frustration at having her concentration being broken, pulling her out of her element. She had been working in the studio, the layout of the yoga instructor’s sister sketched upon the canvas and her hand keyed into the cut of her jaw and the rise of her cheekbones. She was having trouble getting the details of the portrait just right, phone zoomed into the specific angle of the blonde’s jutted features. She knew why, groaning at the blatant references of Lexa that reflect back at her on the canvas.  

With a sigh, she rubs her palms against her jeans, welcoming the interruption, almost dropping her phone when she reads the caller ID that appears on the screen.

_Lexa Woods._

“Hey,” Clarke greets, fumbling to unlock the device in time for the 4 letters to glow back at her, phone pressed tightly between her shoulder and cheek. Her voice is entirely too high.

“Uhh, hey, Lexa!” She clears her throat, trying her best to sound as cool and collected as possible, though her nerves are running amuck. “What’s up?”

“I hate to bother you, but I have no one else to call right now.” A very frazzled Lexa says on the other side of the line. “Anya is depending on me to go to the bakery to meet with the designer and Octavia and Lincoln and both working. I know you don’t have set working hours but..” The brunette continues on breathlessly.

“Whoa, Lexa!” Clarke decides to interrupt. “Calm down. Start from the beginning. What’s going on?”

“Oh.” The line goes quiet for a moment and she faintly detects the sound of a slow exhale before the brunette’s voice returns through the receiver, softer this time. “My car.” She explains. “I think, well, I don’t actually know what’s wrong with it, but I think I need a jump. I don’t mean to interrupt your day, but...”

“I’m on it.” The blonde says definitively. “Where are you?”

“On the side of the street, about five minutes from your place, off of Rivers and Chestnut.” The brunette says back.

“I’ll be there in four.” Clarke promises offhandedly, swiping the keys from the bowl on the counter, jiggling them in her hand.

“Clarke wait!” Comes Lexa’s panicked tone. It throws her off.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t speed.” Lexa requests, but the strain laced in her words makes Clarke think that it’s more than just a casual note. “Please.” There’s a hesitant pause. “Drive carefully.”

The blonde blinks at the phone before placing it back against her cheek, lips against the speaker.

“Okay.” She corrects, tone a bit more tender than normal. “Be there in six, maybe seven.”

 “Thank you, Clarke. I owe you.” Lexa returns gratefully.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a problem.” The blonde smiles, even though the girl on the other side of the line can’t see it. She stumbles out of the door on one foot, trying to get her shoes on as she shuts the door behind her.

\---

Unfortunately, it _is_ a problem.

They try to jump start the car three times, each failed attempt resulting in no avail.

“I think you’re going to need to get it towed.” Clarke frowns.

“Shit.” Lexa curses in a growl under her breath. It’s rare for Clarke to see her so raw and, well, frustrated.

_It’s kinda hot._

Lexa never swears. She shakes her head, desperate to be a friend and _not_ a horn-dog around the brunette. She steps away to allow Lexa to make a phone call to Triple A. Her eyes are cold and jaw tense. She says a few more words to the man on the other line, sharp and biting words that clearly convey her frustration with the entire situation.

“Okay. Thanks. Yes, Chestnut and Rivers. I will. Thank you. Goodbye.”  She pinches the bridge of her nose after the line goes dead, falling unceremoniously onto the curb by her car, toe kicking against the tire for good measure.

“Hey,” Clarke settles herself next to the distraught brunette. “It’s going to be alright.” She does her best to comfort the girl in front of her. She scoots closer until they’re situated side by side, but she leaves enough room so that they don’t touch. Lexa buries face in hands with a sigh.

“I hate to do this to you,” She looks up, green eyes pleading.

_Do it to me. Whatever it is, do it._

Clarke is pretty sure that if Lexa asked her to cut off her own limbs, she would. How could she say no to those big, doe eyes?

“Do you think you could give me a ride to the nearest subway station?” The brunette requests. “Maybe I can catch the next one and will only be a few minutes late to the appointment.”

_Come on, Griffin. Be a hero!_

“I’ll do you one better.” Clarke gives her a lopsided grin. “Where and when’s your appointment? I’ll drive you.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” Lexa shakes head.

“You’re not.” Clarke smiles. “I’m offering.” She says earnestly. “I _want_ to.”

The brunette blinks, but the blonde, impressing even herself, holds her gaze determined to gain the upper hand. “I insist.” She adds for good measure.

“Okay.” Lexa breaks, shoulders sagging. “Thank you. I really can’t thank you enough.” She says gratefully.

“Let’s get going.” Clarke stands, brushing off the back of her pants before holding out a hand to Lexa to hoist her up.

They climb into her car. She leans over the gear stick to grab the bag of plaster and sculpting tools from the passenger seat, tossing the bag into the back seat. “Sorry, meant to take that inside.” She apologizes for the mess.

 “It’s fine.” Lexa smiles softly, settling into the now vacated seat. “I’ve missed your, what do you call it? _Organized chaos?”_ She tilts a brow.

Clarke rolls her eyes playfully before inserting the key into the ignition. “I’m not a slob.” She defends  half-heartedly.

“I never said that. I said _organized chaos_.” Lexa emphasizes again.

“You implied that I was messy.” She shoots back in false offense.

“Maybe…” Lexa bites her lip. “Just a little messy.”

Clarke just chuckles, situating herself in the driver’s seat. She places the keys in the ignition, twisting her wrist. “So where to?” Clarke asks as the car groans to life.

“It’s a place called Maya’s.” Lexa instructs. “You’ll want to drive down this road for about five miles then take a right on Locust.”

 “Never heard of it.” Clarke shrugs. She watches Lexa eye her expectantly before recalling the brunette’s insistence on wearing a seatbelt.  She clicks the safety buckle, giving it a tap before flashing a bashful grin in the brunette’s direction, hoping to alleviate her concern. The second the click is heard between the two, Lexa seems to relax slightly.

 “It’s…” A flash of sadness cross her green eyes, but disappears not even a moment later and Clarke wonders if she had imagined it in the first place. “Maya’s bakery is Anya and I’s favorite. We used to go there for every occasion.” The brunette explains. “It’s about twenty minutes from here.”

“And your appointment is when?” The artist prompts.

“3:30.” Lexa frowns, now glancing at the clock on the dashboard. 

“Okay, well, it’s 3:10 right now.” Clarke nods in understanding. “I think we might just make it, or at the worst, only be a few minutes late. But we can always blame that on DC traffic.” She says easily. Lexa tilts her chin in agreement and the blonde puts the car in drive, flicking the turn signal as she speeds up to merge off the shoulder.

They only make it a mile before Lexa starts fidgeting.

“Hey, everything okay?” Clarke asks, eyes glancing quickly over at the brunette in the passenger seat. “Don’t worry.” She tries to assuage. “Your car will be fine.”

Lexa continues to be antsy for another mile before Clarke pulls over with a sigh.

“It’s not the car, is it?” She says, but doesn’t bother waiting for a response. Withdrawing the keys from the ignition, she carefully places them in Lexa’s lap. “You should drive.” She suggests.

“I…” Her mouth opens and closes, and Clarke can see the gears turning as she tries to come up with something to say, but the blonde just smiles with a gentle shake of her head. She doesn’t quite understand why Lexa is so uneasy, but something in her gut tells her not to ask.

 “You know where it is, after all.” She says without actually voicing the real reason for her suspicion. Lexa gives her a grateful nod and Clarke returns it with an understanding smile.

She sees the glimmer return to Lexa’s eyes, twinkling with gratitude, but doesn’t say another word about it. Her smile is more than enough.

_Attagirl, Griffin!_

They quickly switch seats, the brunette adjusting the mirrors swiftly and they’re off.

\---

Maya’s is a quaint little bakery with an old school coffee shop vibe. The walls are rustic and lined with crème colored trim, each surface covered in soft pastel wallpaper and floral patterns. The moment the bell rings overhead, she’s with the smell of sweet confectionary goodness and her mouth starts to water.

“Sweet setup.” She whistles to herself in awe, blue eyes surveying the bake shop.

“Lexa?” A dark haired girl grins, head poking past the kitchen window. Her eyes are piercing, etched deep in her features, hair pulled back in a bun with wild strands falling from where they had been tied back, framing her face.

“Congratulations!” She greets. “I couldn’t believe my ears when you called!” She breaks into a toothy grin of bubbling excitement.

“Thank you.” Lexa returns with a softer smile of her own.

“How is Anya, by the way?” the shop owner inquires.

“She’s good.” Lexa says politely. “Very stressed.” She adds good-naturedly.

“Understandable.” The dark-haired girl nods.

Clarke stands in the corner dumbly, watching the two conversing like old friends. Her eyes follow the brunette’s hands as Lexa explains the “vision” Anya had chosen for her cake. She wonders if maybe she should just sit at one of the tables along the wall and allow the two to work. Just as she’s about to step away, Lexa seems to sense her departure, catching her before she manages to escape.

“Oh.” Lexa pauses, eyes on Clarke. “Maya, this is Clarke.” She introduces.

“Hello, Clarke.” Maya greets with a toothy grin.

“Hi.” She wiggles her fingers bashfully in greeting. She wants nothing more than to hide behind Lexa.

_The fuck are you doing, Griffin? Why are you acting like a five year old?_

“Nice to see you putting yourself out there.”  Maya says with a wink.

“She uh…” Lexa’s eyes double in size and Clarke’s jaw drops. “We aren’t…”

“Oh my god! I.. I’m so sorry!” Her cheeks flush red. “I just assumed with the way Clarke had been looking at you… Nevermind.” She shakes her head. “Forget I said anything.”

Clarke blushes even brighter than the baker. Maya had caught her observing them, more specifically, observing Lexa with rapt attention.

“It’s just that you haven’t been here in so long…” Maya tries to recover, but it seems as though she manages to make the entire situation worse.

“Yes, thanks. I’m aware.” Lexa says shortly.

“Sorry.” The baker shakes her head. “It’s not my business. So Anya wants vanilla. What else?” She redirects her attention back to the task at hand, turning on her heels and waving a hand, motioning for the pair to follow her into the back office.

“Strawberry filling and a black and white design.” Lexa says. “It’s not really much to go off of.”

Maya drums her fingers on her desk, chewing her lip as she debates.

“Okay.” She says after a moment, sitting up. “So here’s what I can do.” She types on the computer, pulling a variety of designs for the bakery’s portfolio. “We have different tips that can give you a variety of textures. This is great for big petals on flowers.” She gestures wildly at the screen before clicking the mouse with her other hand. “And this gives a ribbon effect.”

Lexa seems to consider it before sighing. “I’m not sure that’s really what we’re going for. Anya wants simple.”

“Okay.” Maya seems undeterred. “How about just a few standalone pieces rather than frosting all over?”

“Like what?” Lexa asks.

“Give me a second.” Maya stands. A moment later she returns with a glob of what looks like brightly colored clay. “This is fondant. It’s basically sculpt-able sugar.”

“That sounds healthy.” Clarke chimes in before stupidly shutting her mouth.

_No one asked you, Griffin._

Maya looks at her inquisitively while Lexa just looks amused.

Clarke watches her roll out the material. “Care to taste some?” Maya offers, holding out the hot pink substance.

Clarke picks off a piece carefully placing it in her mouth. It has a gummy texture, but it’s not bad, just incredibly sweet.

“How is it?” Lexa asks, gauging Clarke’s reaction.

“Good.” She responds.

Maya smiles warmly, breaking off another two pieces, subsequently larger than the one Clarke had consumed. She waves her hand, gesturing for the two to experiment with the material while she turns her attention back to Lexa.

Though the conversation is important to Lexa and Anya, Clarke finds herself bored and hungry. To occupy herself, Clarke busies herself with molding a small tree from the material while Lexa simply rolls her into a elongated worm.

“You’re the creative type, aren’t you?” Maya stops for a moment to turn her attention to Clarke, drawing her out of her artistic haze.

“Oh… No. Not really. Sorry.” She apologizes. “Do you want it back?” She holds the fondant out to the baker unsure.

“No thanks.” Maya laughs. “You keep it. Eat it. Sculpt it.” She insists.

_Of course she doesn’t want it back, dumbass. Your grimy hands were all over it._

She catches Lexa mischievously smirking, but her attention remains fixated on Maya as they resume their conversation. Lexa nods along, offering feedback and criticism for each option.

When she observes her again, Lexa is still smirking. This time, Clarke wonders why. The artist is about to brush it off when the brunette sheepishly pushes her own fondant sculpture into her direction. She had swirled her worm into what was quite obviously a snake, silently teasing Clarke for her abrasive reaction when they had gone hiking.

She narrows her gaze at the brunette next to her, but Lexa remains unfazed, conversing with Maya. Clarke smashes down her tree, reconfiguring it into a shoe, before placing it on the head of Lexa’s snake, crossing her arms in playful offense.

She catches Lexa’s eyes flickering in the direction of the small figures on the desk, lips tugging slightly to the left as Maya continues to zealously explain something on the computer screen.

It continues on like this with Lexa making random, relatively simple figures, while Clarke molds complementary pieces to go along with them.

They’re on their fifth round when the baker glances at the clock on her desk. “Oh!” She gasps. “I’ve got to head back into the shop. I have a customer coming in to pick up a huge order.” She apologizes.

“No problem. Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice.” Lexa says gratefully. “And I’m sorry for being slightly late.”

“You weren’t late.” Maya grins. “Clarke got you here just in time.” She gives Clarke a warm smile. “Thank you for stopping by. Feel free to keep looking through.” She tilts her head at the keyboard. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything. Take your time.” She smiles. “It was nice meeting you, Clarke. Great seeing you again, Lexa.”

They’re left in the room alone and Clarke can feel the emerald gaze on her as she pokes the snowman and reindeer now sitting on the desk between them.

 “You _are_ creative.” Lexa says, tearing off the tiny triangular nose, popping it into her mouth. “Why are you so humble all of a sudden?” She frowns.

“I…” Clarke flushes. “I guess, I’ve been knocked down a few pegs.”

Lexa sighs. “Come on.” She stands, disposing of the fondant, making her way towards the door. Clarke mentally berates herself for the stupid admission.

_Of course she isn’t going to offer you sympathy. You are the one who fucked her over._

\---

It’s not that she doesn’t want Clarke to seriously consider her actions. She does, but this Clarke, this scared, timid, overly cautious, overthinking Clarke is not what she wants either. She misses the banter, the playful nature of their friendship. Her eyes follow Clarke as she awkwardly makes her way to the display case of sweets at the front of the bake shop.

Just as Maya wraps up with the customer at the counter, Lexa catches her wiggle a bold brow, head tilting towards the kitchen. She excuses herself while Clarke continues eying the sweets by the store window.

When they’re alone, Maya shuts the door behind  them, leaning slightly to catch a glimpse of Clarke through the glass window.

“I just wanted to apologize for thinking that Clarke was your girlfriend.” She confesses to the brunette. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, or assume. It’s just that you haven’t brought anyone here, or really been here since…”

“I know.” Lexa sighs.

“I just thought…” Maya tries to explain.

“My car broke down.” Lexa doesn’t need her to justify her actions. She gets it. “Clarke offered to give me a ride.”

That’s nice of her.”  The raven-haired notes.

“Yes.” Lexa says, eyes glancing over at the blonde from the kitchen window. Clarke, seeming to feel the pair’s eyes on her turns, blinking like a dumbfounded baby deer before raising her hand, giving a shy wave.

Lexa lets out a puff of air from her nose, a clear sign of amusement before waving back. Clarke quickly tears her eyes away while Lexa holds back the urge to snort, turning her attention to the baker.

“You know she kind of looks at you like…” Maya trails off, obviously not wanting to speak out of turn.

“Like she likes me?” Lexa says, finishing the sentence for her. “I know. She told me.”

“And you? How do you feel about her?” Lexa pivots to stealthily observe the blonde who is now smiling childishly at a cupcake display turning slowly as it rotates in the display case. Clarke could be sweet and bold at the same time, considerate and overwhelmingly passionate. And Lexa just wasn’t ready. There was still a lot of trust that needed to be regained.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” She finally says.

“I see. Well, here.” Maya makes her way over to the refrigeration unit. “Have a few on me.” She passes Lexa a box.

She tilts back the top to see a pair of lemon bars sitting in the box.

“You used to get them with Costia.” Maya says knowingly.

“They were her favorite.” Lexa gulps, fighting back tears. The thought of the citrusy tangy flavor on her tongue almost makes her sick, though she does her best to appear appreciative. She knows Maya means well.

“Thank you.” She says, a wave of nostalgia washing over her.

The kitchen phone rings, interrupting their conversation. Maya rushes towards it, shooting Lexa an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.” She mouths before answer the phone.

“Thank you for calling Maya’s Bakery, this is Maya. What can I do for you today?”

Lexa makes a notion to excuse herself, giving Maya a final wave, desperate to leave the vicinity. When she’s out of the stifling kitchen, Lexa’s shoulders relax, though her hands are trembling as she grips the box. She immediately screws her eyes shut, counting backwards from 100, breathing in slowly. At 54, she feels better, slowly moving to approach the blonde.

“So, what now?” Clarke asks when Lexa returns, completely unaware of her near-mental breakdown.

“Here.” She opens the container, arms outstretched as she offers up a pastry to Clarke. She takes it eagerly, consuming a rather inhumanly large bite.

“This is phenomenal!” The blonde says through a mouthful of lemon bar, hand coming up to shield her mouth.

Lexa chuckles as she watches a few crumbs fall onto Clarke’s shirt, the blonde’s goofy behavior lightening her mood substantially. She brushes a few crumbles off of the girl absentmindedly. “They are.” She agrees. “Have mine as well.” She offers, not wanting to divulge her real reasoning behind the suggestion.

“Are you sure?” The blonde asks, though Lexa can see her eying the second dessert with desire.

“Positive.” She nods. “As for what’s next, you can just drop me off at the station. I need to change and get ready for the yoga class tonight.”

Clarke chews desperately, swallowing hard with a shake of her head. “I could drive you there, you know.” Then pauses. “Well, you could drive my car, if you want.”

“You’ve already done enough, Clarke.” She says firmly.

The blonde frowns, gaze falling to the floor and Lexa reconsiders her choice of words.

“I didn’t mean it in that way.” She amends. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me today. I can’t ask you to do even more for me. Anya will be off work soon, I can…”

“But…” Clarke bites her lip. “I want to.” Her blue eyes rise slowly from the ground to meet Lexa’s emerald orbs.

The brunette studies her before smiling softly. “Okay.”

Clarke opens the door for her, reaching into her pocket to pass the keys over to the brunette before they get to her car.

“So how’s the painting going?” Lexa tries to make small talk as she buckles herself in.

“It’s good. You can stop by to see it if you want.” Clarke says from the passenger seat, now settled in with her seatbelt fastened, lemon bar in between her two fingers.

“Okay.” Lexa nods, backing them out of the parking lot. “I might do that.”

“It’s a good present.” Clarke says, cheeks puffed out as she tries to speak through the food. “You should give O some pointers. She needs ideas.”

Lexa rolls her eyes at Clarke’s eating habits while a playful smirk. “They’re really not picky.” She notes.

It takes a moment for Clarke to finish the bite in her mouth before speaking again. “That’s apparently the problem.” Clarke continues. “A registry would help.” She points out.

“I’ll get on it.” Lexa says, mentally adding it to the list of the millions of things to do. She can’t prevent the frustrated sigh from escaping her lips.

“Hey.” Clarke eases. “Are you okay?” She asks sympathetically. “Like, are you taking care of yourself?” She continues nervously. “A wedding is a lot of plan for, especially with such short notice.”

Her foot hits the break a little too roughly, slightly taken aback by the blonde’s concern. It’s so genuine. She knows that Clarke is being careful and cautious, afraid to push too hard. She acts as though she’s been walking on egg shells.

_But she’s trying._

Lexa knows that she’s probably still kicking herself internally. Clarke had been the type to hold grudges against other people, who’s to say she isn’t going to hold this one against herself?

“Yoga will help.” She says instead.

“Oh.” Clarke nods, eyes drifting to her lap.

Lexa takes the next opportunity to look directly over at the blonde when the light turns red. With the car stalled, she turns to face the girl who sits anxiously in the passenger seat, fists clenched.

“Clarke,” she reaches out to give the girl’s hands a pat. “I appreciate you looking out for me.” She adds.

The blonde breaks into a shy grin. “Anytime.”

\---

Clarke sits at the back of the classroom with a drawing pad that Lexa had insisted she bring along to occupy her time, instead of sitting in absolute boredom for the one hour span of the yoga class.

The lord tests her strength of willpower for the entire 60 excruciatingly unholy minutes.

She tries to concentrate of the figures she’s drawing, but she’s drawn more to Lexa’s voice, breathy and light as she commands the class with grace. It’s hypnotizing. That and the fact that the brunette is currently dressed in leggings and a sports bra, leading the class into a sinful back arch.

“Expand your chest, inhale _deep_ and _slow_.” Lexa instructs.

Clarke’s thighs clench together at the emphasized words.

_Griffin, you’re a fucking perv. Keep it in your pants._

She swallows hard, regretting not grabbing a water bottle on the way over.

60 minutes later, Clarke is tense as a bow, stiff on the floor with her pencil clenched in a white-knuckle grip, throat parched and pupils dilated. She’s so lost in her corrupted thoughts that she doesn’t even notice Lexa settling on the floor, class dismissed and the room empty.

“What did you draw?” The brunette cocks her head to the side, legs crossed at her ankle as she leans forward to look at the tablet in Clarke’s lap.

“Oh uhh…” She rotates the sketchbook so that the yoga instructor can get a better glimpse at the rough outlines. They’re sketches of figures, ambiguous in their features, but detailed enough to portray the contorted shapes of the human body; specifically the yoga poses that had occurred during the class period. Sphere and lines create the illusion of faces while soft, delicate curves form the bends and arches of backs, legs, and chests. Sharper angles lay out the elbows and knees of the various positions.

“These are fantastic!” Lexa gapes. “May I?” Her slender fingers hover over the corner of the page.

Clarke nods, cheeks pink as a result of the brunette’s compliment. Lexa continues to flip through the pages she had since filled for the duration of the yoga session, the lines growing a little bolder and darker as the poses get more intricate and subsequently, a little more sexual in appearance.

She feels her cheeks burn when Lexa turns to a page with dark impression lines and a figure with its legs spread wide into a split. Instead of focusing where the brunette’s eyes are scanning over the page, she rests her blue eyes on Lexa’s face, trying to discern the girl’s opinion.

There’s a small tilt to her lips as she brings her fingers to trace the long lines where the figure’s legs are parted.

“You make yoga look so beautiful.” Lexa compliments, fingertips grazing over the shading of the collarbones branching into outstretched s and open palms, ready to grasp the top of each respective foot in a graceful stretch.

_You are._

“It is.” Clarke agrees with a terse nod, voice thick and heavy. The room falls silent as the two lock eyes, a feeling of push and pull hovering over them. Lexa is the first to tear her gaze away.

“Care to give it another chance?”  The brunette inquires, closing the sketchbook with finality, passing it back to Clarke.

“What do you mean?” The artist’s stomach flips when their fingers touch.

“Yoga. Want to try again?” Lexa elaborates. “You seem tense.”

_No shit._

“I’m not really built for that kind of movement.” She says instead, pulling the pencil out to rapidly sketch a clumsy looking stick figure with a snapback falling into a contrived position.  “Me.” She points to the doodle that appears to have face planted before drawing a cartoonish frown on its face.

“Nonsense.” Lexa chuckles. “You can be beautiful too.” She says casually, finger tapping the figure doing the splits. “There’s a special kind of yoga that I think you’re _really_ going to like.” She says, making the decision before Clarke can object.

Her bare feet pad across the floor as she approaches the storage closet, appearing after a few moments with two long strands of silk ribbon around her neck and a small step ladder in hand.

There’s a glimmer in her eye as she gives Clarke a wink that absolutely does not set her cheeks ablaze, before unfolding the ladder, hooking the fabric onto the rungs anchored to the ceiling. She had never even noticed them before, but to be fair, her focus wasn’t exactly up there. The few times she did visit, her eyes had been pretty much glued to Lexa. Like she told Octavia, she was a very attentive student.

 _Who are you trying to kid, Griffin?_ Clarke mentally rolls her eyes at herself.

“Have you ever heard of aerial yoga?” The brunette asks, pulling her away from her internal banter with herself.

Blue eyes scan up the fabric with hesitance. “No?”

“You’re going to love this.” Lexa smiles. “It’s just like a swing set.” She guides Clarke over to the hanging fabric, positioning it at waist level, pressing it to Clarke’s pelvis. The blonde’s eyes double in size.

“Just making sure it’s the right height.” Lexa smirks before letting go, allowing the silk to flow back, rocking gently until it comes to a complete stop. She does the same with her own, pressing down with her hands at a shoulder’s length apart before stepping forward so that the material is flush against her hips.

“Alright.” She nods, satisfied. “The first step is easy.” Lexa grins. “Bunch it up like this.”

She demonstrates by gathering a fistful of the fabric into each hand. She stands on her tiptoes, shifting her hips so that she can bring the bunched material under her waist.

“Now sit, then pull forward. You’re basically making a seat for yourself.” She traces the curve of the fabric, hands coming to the round of her butt. “See?”

 _Fuck._ Yes, she definitely _sees_.

Clarke does as she’s told, though she’s not even half as graceful when she does it.

“Great!” Lexa encourages. “Fun, right?”

 _Fun_ isn’t quite the word she would use, _testing,_ maybe. But she nods anyway.

“Uhh…” The blonde wobbles slightly in the swing, hands clenching the fabric in her hands. “Not sure if falling on my ass constitutes as fun.”

The brunette chuckles, shaking her head. “You’re not going to fall.” She assures.

 _Really not sure about that._ She flails slightly, trying to regain her balance as her weight gets shifted around.

“Let’s do a simple stretch.” Lexa says, ignoring Clarke’s theatrics. “Here, take the fabric from under your knees and pull it forward to make a hammock.” She pulls the silk from where it has been resting under her knees, leaning to bring it towards her ankles so that her body is resting at a 90 degree angle.

“No way!” Clarke gasps. “I’m going to rip my pants if I try that!”

“You won’t.” Lexa’s rich, airy laughter fills the room and all of Clarke’s resolve cracks at the sound. She wiggles slightly, attempting to follow the brunette’s lead. To her surprise, the movement actually creates a more stable surface for her sit in, the tension in her back slowly releasing. It feels _amazing._

Lexa seems to detect her relief, smiling knowingly. “Want to keep going?” She proposes.

Clarke gives a hesitant nod, warily watching the brunette with attentive eyes.

Lexa moves into the next position, sinking forward, reaching towards her toes. Clarke does her best to mimic her movements, feeling far less flexible as the muscles in the back of her legs strain.

“Not too far, Clarke.” Lexa warns. “Just until it feels good: a small stretch. It’s supposed to relax you, not hurt you.”

The artist nods in understanding, shifting her weight back, feeling an immediate release of tension.

“Good. Now close your eyes and breathe.” Lexa instructs. “Just sit and feel your muscles loosen. You can flex your toes if you want, and your hamstrings should start to feel a little pull. Let the tension leave your body, exiting through the tips of your toes.”

She gives Lexa an incredulous look. If she was going to start spewing out that mumbo jumbo, there was no way Clarke was going to be able to take her seriously. Especially when it was just the two of them in the room. Lexa quirks a brow as if to challenge her.

Clarke gives in, squeezing her eyes shut.

Lexa doesn’t say a word, letting silence fall over them as they sit in the simple position.

When she finally opens her eyes, she sees Lexa just watching her. She doesn’t even tear her eyes away. Her green eyes never falter and she simply sits taller. “Ready for another pose?”

_No._

Lexa shoots her a smile.

“Okay.” The blonde caves.

“Let’s slip out of this and into something more comfortable.”  Lexa deadpans and Clarke’s eyes widen.

_Shit. Did she just…?_

Clarke blushes while Lexa smirks back at her. The artists swallows thickly, eyes betraying her as they scan over Lexa’s figure.

“That’s better.” Lexa smiles. Clarke can’t tell if she means the new position, her familiarly catching Clarke gawking, or the fact that Lexa had gotten her flustered like she used to.  Either way, Clarke feels chastised, tearing her gaze away.

Lexa falls forward, the fabric catching her at her armpits, as she knees bend. The cloth is now resting against her sports bra as she shifts her weight forward, leans until the fabric catches, tugging her arms until they dangle like a rag doll.

“It looks kind of silly, but it feels good, I promise.” She says to Clarke before letting her head fall, her entire body swaying slightly. Clarke resists the urge to roll her eyes, following along.

_It does feel good._

The stiffness in her back starts to dissipate, the gentle pull of the fabric allowing her to open her chest and stretch out her shoulders.

Lexa catches her smiling with a tranquil expression and she quickly wipes it away, face neutral as she can muster. She really doesn’t want to give Lexa the satisfaction of knowing that she is actually loving this, even though she’s pretty sure Lexa already knows.

They move through a handful of other simplified poses as the artist attempts to parrot each position with ungainly grace. She _really_ doesn’t want to admit it, but she could get used to this, sans the lingo that Lexa occasionally throws it, though she’s pretty sure it’s for her own amusement at this point. She knows Clarke doesn’t believe a word she says.

_This might not be so bad after all._

“Want to try an inversion?” Lexa says after they complete a few more poses.

“I don’t know what that means.” Clarke purses her lips, scrunching her nose.

“I know.” Lexa teases, eyes shining. “I’ll guide you.” She says, hoping out of her aerial hammock to approach Clarke and her ribbon.

“Am I gonna regret this?” The blonde swallows.

Lexa smiles but gives nothing away as she moves to approach Clarke from behind. Her fingers come up to the blonde’s sides, positioning her properly in the silk cloth. When her palms find purchase on her hips, Clarke noticeably tenses.

“Breathe, Clarke.” She whispers in the girl’s ears.

_Fuck. Not again._

“I… I’m trying.” She whimpers pathetically, posture still stiff as a board.

“Relax.” She feels Lexa running her hand up and down her spine before coming over the curve of her shoulders, kneading lightly.

_Fuck. Me. Game. Over. Press X to exit._

She feels Lexa’s hands slip lower, knuckles grazing over to the small of her back. “I’m going to pull this out.” She says, her breath hot against Clarke’s ear. The fabric from underneath her shifts out as Lexa pulls it tight.

“Lean back.” She instructs, though Clarke looks back hesitantly. “The fabric will catch you.” Lexa assures. Her eyes are soft yet determined and Clarke does as she’s commanded to.

“Cross your arms and grab the edges right here.” She feels Lexa giving the cloth by her ears a gentle tug. Her fingers find the edge, but not before accidentally skirting over Lexa’s. Her cheeks burn as Lexa looks away.

“Uhh.” The instructor clears her throat. “Now bring your knees into your chest and roll back as far as you can.” She says, still not looking at the blonde.

“What?!” Clarke stiffens. It sounds impossible.

“It’s called a flip out.” Lexa explains, returning to her professional manner. “Your feet will find the floor, I promise.”

“Lexa…” Clarke goes to object, eyes widened in horror.

“Clarke.” Lexa returns levelly.

“I’m…” She hesitates.

“You don’t have to be scared.” The brunette seems to read her mind.

“I never said I was.” Clarke defies.

“Your eyes have been saying otherwise all day.” Lexa finally calls her out.

The tension of the room is suffocating.

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes.

The brunette just clicks her tongue, shaking her head.

“Come on. Let’s get over it.” She pressing her hands between Clarke’s shoulder blades, slowly sliding them down her spine and settling at the small of her back. She gives a gentle push, the momentum being enough to allow Clarke to toss her feet over her head, landing squarely on the foam mat below her.

“See?” The brunette seems pleased. “Fun, right?”

Clarke barely manages to nod, legs somewhat shaky. Her skin sears everywhere Lexa had just placed her hands. Their eyes lock and Clarke can see that Lexa is search for something, but she can’t place her finger on what it is exactly. Still, she’s unable to break away.

Finally, Lexa does it for her. “I think that’s enough with the tricks for today.” The brunette decides. “Let’s wrap up.”

She places Clarke into a final position known as “sleeping bear”, which just sounds preposterous to Clarke. She’s nestled into a cocoon, feet hanging in the fabric pockets that Lexa had configured for her. She feels utterly ridiculous.

Lexa peaks her head over the fabric as she hangs there, feeling like a fool.

“Close your eyes, Clarke.” Lexa encourages again.

With a reluctant sigh, Clarke abides by the girl’s instructions. She feels Lexa press lightly against her shoulders to rock the hammock slightly. It’s so gentle that she barely even registers it.

What she does register though, is the trailing of soft finger tips and a cold liquid on her clavicle.

Her eyes snap open instantly.

“Essential oils.” Lexa whispers. “Relax.” She coaxes.

_How is she supposed to do that?!_

She opens her mouth to object but the brunette is already walking away. She doesn’t hear where she’s going, as the yoga instructor is skillfully light on her feet. When the lights start to dim, she figures Lexa is somewhere in the back of the room, fingers lowering the brightness of the fluorescent bulbs overhead.

She eventually does close her eyes, the darkness and silence quieting her mind.  

Clarke isn’t sure how long she had been laying there, but she’s pretty sure she’s fallen asleep. Because when her eyes open, Lexa is hovering above her, fingers running through her hair as she gently lures her awake.

“Are we feeling a little more at peace now?” The yoga instructor asks, voice airy and light.

“I think so.” Clarke nods, a sleepy and content smile spread across her lips.

“I think so too.” Lexa smiles back.


	14. Handle With Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa show a little more vulnerability to one another.

After hanging up with the repair shop, Lexa finds out that it will take at least three weeks for her car to be repaired, miserably slumping to ground, allowing her head to fall against the wall for good measure with a thud. Apparently there was some sort of damage to the battery, which would need to be immediately replaced. As if that wasn’t bad enough news, while they were investigating the cause of the failure, they also discovered a problem with the motor as well. Replacement parts would have to be ordered, taking at least a week or two, and another week would be spent doing the actual repair work. In that time, she would have to resort to public transportation.

Clarke had called her earlier that day to invite her over to check out the painting’s progress thus far and to make sure that she was creating it exactly to fit Lexa’s vision.  During their conversation, she had accidentally let it slip that she was going to be without a car for three weeks and had errands to run that afternoon. Clarke didn’t even let her finish her sentence before allowing her to borrow the car. The artist had even offered to pick her up, but the brunette didn’t want to continue to burden her, so they agree to meet in two hours, giving Lexa plenty of time to get ready for the day and arrive at the blonde’s residence.

Normally Lexa wouldn’t have a problem with taking public transportation. After the accident, there was a period of time when she would only take public transportation, too afraid to even set foot in a car, let alone drive it. But not having a vehicle while trying to complete Maid of Honor errands was terribly inconvenient and the bus and train schedule wasn’t exactly efficient either.

With a sigh, she resorts to digging out her metro card, ready to face crowded confines of the alternate form of transportation. It’s not unbearable, cramped into the tiny cart, there’s definite relief when she finally steps onto the platform, free from the stench of concrete piss and the strange tinge of old fast food wrappers. Luckily, the journey doesn’t take as long as they had initially anticipated. She shoots the blonde a text to inform her that she will be there about half an hour ahead of schedule.

When she arrives at the third floor of the apartment building, she’s surprised to find Octavia, rather than Clarke, at the door.

“Hey, Lexa!” Her student greets, confusion evident on her face.

“Hey, O.” She smiles kindly. “Is Clarke here?”

The brunette immediately assumes the worst, smile falling from her face. “What did she fuck up now?!” She growls, grabbing her keys to the apartment.

“Nothing.” Lexa quickly places a hand on her forearm to stop her from storming out the door. “I’m early. She’s commissioning a painting for me.” She explains. “Is she not here right now?” She checks her phone. She hadn’t gotten a reply from Clarke.

The roommate shakes her head. “I saw her leave the studio about half an hour ago.  Said she needed a break. She hasn’t come back yet.”

“Oh.” Lexa nods. “Do you know where she went?”

Octavia shrugs. “Probably the park. But I’m sure she’ll be back soon though.” Octavia brushes off. “You’re welcome to hang out here until she gets back if you want.” She gestures welcomingly in the direction of the couch and television.

“That’s alright.” Lexa smiles in kind. “I actually think I might go find her.” She says.

“Okie dokie.”  Octavia chirps. “I’ll probably see you both soon then.”

Lexa gives her a quick nod and makes her way back down the stairs. The walk to the park doesn’t take too long. She walks through the gated area, heading towards the brambles and brush when she hears a husky laugh from across the basketball court. She pauses in her steps, turning towards the sound that suddenly made her stomach turn strangely.

_That’s new._

What she sees is more than unexpected. Clarke is running from a crowd of boys, laughing and squealing as they shout joyfully after her. A ball bounces between her hand and the painted pavement before hitting the backboard, swishing into the basket in a near-perfect arc.

 The sun dances around her golden curls as they spring in time with Clarke’s steps. For someone who didn’t like exercising, Clarke was certainly putting in quite a bit of physical energy, eyes shining brightly as the boys tackle her to the ground. They proceed to pile on top of her and for a moment Lexa loses sight of her completely, wondering if she should break them up and go to the girl’s rescue. But then a long arm breaks through the mass of children, waving frantically. The boys slowly pull themselves off her, a red-headed boy holding out a hand to help her up. She ruffles his hair warmheartedly, saying something to address the group before all but one disperses.

The boy that had initially assisted her to her feet runs to retrieve the winning basketball, returning to Clarke with an eager gleam in his eyes. Clarke takes the ball from his grip, placing it under her arm before holding up a finger. She says something to him, but Lexa is too far away to actually make out any of the words. Instead, she resorts to leaning against the fence, watching the scene play out. Clarke raises her left hand, then uses her right to point to the tip of her finger, somewhat contorted with the ball still nestled under her wing. The child nods back ardently, eyes wide and eager.

What happens next has Lexa thoroughly impressed. Clarke untucks the ball, taking it in both hands before giving it a light toss, catching it on her left pointer finger. It remains there for a good 10 seconds, spinning around before losing momentum and falling out of balance. The boy jumps in the air, clapping enthusiastically, eliciting a boisterous laugh from the blonde. It’s so full of life that Lexa finds herself smiling as a result as well. Clarke hands him the ball, gesturing for him to attempt to copy her trick. It falls immediately, his expression dropping along with it. He picks the ball up, passing it dejectedly back to Clarke. The blonde places a hand on his shoulder, smiling encouragingly down at him. She repeats the motion again, taking a minute to explain something before urging him to try once more. This time, he manages to catch the ball on his finger, but it wobbles before tumbling towards the pavement.

Clarke patiently recaptures the basketball before it hits the concrete. She speaks to the boy again, making a sharp swiping motion with her right hand. The boy mimics her action a few times before receiving a nod of approval from his teacher. This time, he regains control of the ball, getting the proper amount of momentum to send it spiraling on his finger for a good few seconds. His face lights up immediately and Clarke places her snapback on his head before lifting him in the air and spinning him around, his gangly limbs flailing as she does. Laughter erupts from the pair as Lexa’s grin widens.

When his feet make contact with the ground below him again, something catches his eye near the area that Lexa is standing. She feels caught as he hesitantly points towards the her. She debates running off, but it’s already too late. Clarke grabs the boy protectively, putting him behind her until she looks up to see who the person actually is. It only takes a millisecond for her to register that it’s Lexa watching, thankfully, and her gaze softens significantly. The brunette gives a shy wave in their direction.

Clarke’s shoulders relax and she returns the gesture before turning to Aden, kneeling slightly to place both hands on his shoulders. She speaks gently to him, a serene smile on her face before holding her hand in the air. He completes the high five, removing the snapback and returning it to the blonde. Clarke gives him a final nod before he scampers towards the direction of the gate where Lexa is still standing.

“Aden!” Clarke shouts and the boy stops dead in his tracks.

“Yeah?”

“Forgetting something?” The blonde holds up the basketball that, up until that point, had been under her arm.

He bolts towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She can see the way Clarke’s eyes shimmer at the gesture before he detaches himself, bidding her farewell once again. She grabs a drawstring bag that had been resting against the bench, jamming her belongings that had been lying in the grass inside before breaking into a brisk jog.

 “Hey.” She greets. Now that she’s up close, Lexa can smell the mixture sunlight and fresh grass emanating from the blonde, a slight sheen of sweat covering her heaving chest. Lexa had never seen Clarke exert herself this willingly, and for a bunch of kids. It’s endearing, if not incredibly sweet.

“Shit. Sorry.” Clarke looks at the brunette uncertainly. “Am I late?” She immediately starts to rifle through her bag in search of something. “I didn’t have my phone on me. Did O not let you in? I’m sorry if…”

It takes Lexa a moment to register what the blonde had asked, frantically rambling on with her words practically blurring together in the rush. She shakes her head, gathering her bearings.

 “You’re fine.” The brunette assures with a chuckle. “Don’t apologize. I went to your place, but I was early. Octavia said you were at the park so I decided I’d rather come find you than sit around waiting.”

“Sorry.” The blonde says again, and Lexa playfully juts her chin out at the unnecessary apology.

“Stop apologizing.” She rebukes playfully.

“You…” Clarke flushes. “Sor… Okay.” She catches herself. “I didn’t mean to get caught up with them.” She states, referring to the boys.

“Are they your friends?” The brunette asks curiously. They’re a bit young, but Clarke has always had a light-hearted, youthful spirit about her. She wouldn’t be that surprised if they were.

Clarke’s fingers toy with the straps of the bag on her shoulders for a moment before answering. “I used to play with them and Finn when we were still together.”

“That must be…” Lexa pauses in search of the right word. “Conflicting.”

“Yeah.” The blonde’s shoulders slump slightly. “But I don’t want to let them down, especially Aden.”

“Aden.” Lexa repeats. “He’s the one who stayed behind?”

“Yeah.” Clarke nods, a gentle fondness growing in her eyes at the mention of the boy. “He’s wanted to learn how to do that trick for a while. I promised I’d teach him but never really got around to it until now.”

“That’s sweet of you to keep your promise.” Lexa smiles.

“He’s the sweet one.” Clarke says with certainty. Something about the way she says it with so much pride sends a jolt through Lexa’s chest. Luckily, Clarke is still caught up with singing Aden’s praises to notice. “He’s an absolute angel. Too nice for his own good. He really can do no wrong.” She affectionately rambles on.

“You’re very taken with him.” Lexa comments before adding, “And he’s taken with you too.”

“He’s a good one.” Clarke nods sentimentally, fingering the brim of the hat in her hand.

 “So are you.” Lexa places a hand over hers, instinctively. Both girls tense before shyly drawing apart. “Uhh” the brunette clears her throat. “Does he know?” She asks.

“Know what?” Clarke asks, voice shaking.

“You put the hat on him,” Lexa elaborates, eying the accessory. “Your father’s hat. It obviously means a lot to you. Did you tell him?”

“I… it... yeah.” Clarke stutters. “Yeah, it really does. It makes me feel closer to him. Aden doesn’t know that though. I don’t want him to be sad.” She frowns.

Then it hits her; the sheer significance between her father’s hat and the fact that Clarke had been completely and totally genuine all along. Even though she had masked it with flirting and cocky comments and pick up lines, she wouldn’t have let Lexa keep her father’s hat for so long if her feelings weren’t genuine. It meant something to her. At that, something in Lexa’s chest starts to bloom.

“Clarke?” Lexa says gently.

“Yeah?” It’s barely a whisper.

“He wouldn’t want you to be sad either.” She says, though it comes out more breathless than she expected. She wills herself to tear her gaze away from their hands, looking up to discover a pair of watery blue eyes.

She gives her hand a squeeze, hoping to convey exactly who she’s referring to by ‘he.’ Her eyes search between the plagued blue as they share the quiet moment until the sound of the blonde’s cell phone causes them both to jump apart. Lexa takes a step back, brushing invisible lint off her shirt while Clarke clumsily fumbles with her bag. The blonde’s little pink tongue peeks out between her teeth as she searches its contents to turn off the deafening alarm. When she finally ceases the sound, she tucks it back into the bag with a nervous smile.

“We should get going.” Clarke notes, eyes no longer bearing the same sadness they had carried before. “That was my my cue to hurry up and shower before you got here.” She explains. “Or if you want…” She sounds somewhat disappointed. “I can give you my keys and you can go without me. I’ll drive you home when you’re done.”

“No.” Lexa shakes her head. “You and I made a deal.” She says, referring back to the texting conversation they had earlier in the week. “If I drove, you would be in the passenger seat.” She insists. She bites the inside of her cheek, realizing what implication her words might have before adding, “it’s your car, after all. It wouldn’t be right.”

_There we go. Platonic. Much better._

“I trust you with it.” The blonde shrugs.

Lexa tenses. She’s so guarded against Clarke. How can the girl be so opposite? Surely it’s not that easy to just…

“You coming?” Lexa is brought out of her thoughts by the blonde’s husky voice.

Her gaze flits over the back of the Clarke’s figure as she mentally questions her own self-discipline, scolding herself  before letting her gaze fall to the sidewalk instead.

“Yes.” She says, voice wavering just a little bit as she trails after the blonde.

\---

Clarke bursts through the doorway and into the bathroom, leaving Lexa and Octavia in the kitchen. She rips out of her dirty attire, too embarrassed to have met Lexa’s gaze for the entirety of the walk back. She hadn’t expected Lexa to catch her off-guard, much less completely drenched in sweat, and probably reeking of B.O. She inwardly groans. Lexa probably found her so repulsive.

After a quick shower, spraying herself with a decent amount of perfume, she feels a bit more put together, apologizing again while Octavia raises a brow at her and Lexa threatens, lightheartedly, to throw a pillow from the couch at her if she voices one more apology.

“Ready?” She gestures towards the studio.

Lexa nods, following her into the small space. It smells of acrylic mixed with the spring breeze floating through the cracked window. Clarke takes a moment to breathe it in before guiding Lexa around the scattered array of canvases and supplies.

“Here it is so far.” She rubs nervously at the back of her neck. “Is it… is this what you were thinking?”

She twiddles her fingers anxiously as Lexa starts at the painting. It’s still a portrait of Anya, despite the lack of shading and detail. But her cheekbones are distinguishable, the angle of her jaw, and the dark base coat of her skin and blonde hair are obvious.

“You’re amazing.” Is all Lexa says and Clarke feels her cheeks burning all the way to the tip of her ears.

“Uhh, it’s nothing.” She tries to brush it off.

“It’s _everything_.” Lexa insists in awe. At that, Clarke’s breath catches.

“Umm…” She struggles to find a response. “It’ll be better once I get the details in.” She says. “Should we uhh, get going?”

“I just want to look at this for a little bit longer.” Lexa says, taking a step towards the easel. “Can I?” her hand hovers over the canvas.

“Of course.”

She watches as long, delicate fingers trace over the lines and graze over the small bumpy strands where the paint had dried, creating the slightest imprint of the texture of the brush she had been using.

“Amazing.” Lexa says again, though Clarke thinks maybe she had meant to say that to herself, rather than outloud. But then Lexa turns to her, green eyes boring into blue . “Amazing.” She says again, firmer this time.

Clarke’s heart lurches.

\---

It’s not a particularly long drive to the custom print shop. Lexa goes through the list while Clarke confirms the count on each; invitations, thank you card and personalized envelopes, as well as the gift bags with “Anya and Roan” printed in beautiful manuscript on the handles. When everything is accounted for, they make their way back towards the brunette’s apartment.

Unfortunately, the trip back pales in comparison to the trip there; literally. On the way back to dropping Lexa off at her place, they hit traffic and Clarke cranes her neck, trying to get an idea of how long they’ll be stuck.

Within minutes, the sound of sirens blaring emerges from behind them and she notices Lexa tensing visibly, knuckles white as she grips, no _clings,_ desperately to the steering wheel, trying to find something ground herself. Her pupils go dark and her normally lively green eyes glaze over. Her face pales drastically as she starts trembling. Clarke catches on immediately.

She had never been more grateful for her mother than in this moment. Thankfully, Clarke is able to recall the symptoms and the proper way to lure someone out of an oncoming anxiety attack. Even Clarke herself had gotten them once or twice. She specifically remembers the one when her mother had told her about her father’s demise, delivering the sullen news in one devastating blow.

“Lexa?” Clarke makes her voice as soft as possible, but remains steady enough to make Lexa aware of her presence without startling her any further.

The brunette’s jaw locks, color still drained from her face. It’s what Clarke was afraid might happen.

She wraps her fingers around Lexa’s wrist, rubbing the stiffened joint over and over again, speaking in hushed tones. She hopes that the small gesture would give her a physical sense of security.

“Lexa, I’m here. You’re here. We’re present. We are present.” She repeats, never ceasing to let go of the brunette’s wrist.

“Can you count with me?” She requests tenderly.

“One…” She guides. “Two… three…”

“Four.” Lexa’s trembling voice joins her.

“Five… six… seven… eight… nine… ten.” They count together. After a few moments of repetition and coaxing, Lexa finally deflates, coming back to reality.

“Hey.” Clarke whispers soothingly as a tear falls down Lexa’s cheek, plopping into her lap. She wants nothing more than to brush her fingers over the trail, stopping more tears from falling, but Lexa’s eyes are distant and she would rather not risk any further contact causing the girl to freeze up.

“H-hi.” The brunette eventually croaks, glassy eyed.

“Do you know where you are?” The blonde inquires gently releasing her grip on the brunette.

“We…” Lexa blinks and swallows. Clarke gives her a moment to breathe before answering. “We’re in DC. Off I-95, heading back to my apartment.” The brunette finally replies.

“Good.” Clarke nods. “That’s right.” The artist confirms. “Do you maybe want to pull over?” She suggests lightly. “I could drive if you’d like to take a break.”

After a shuddered exhale of breath, Lexa shakes her head. “I think I’m okay now. Thank you though.” She turns back to face the road. Neither brings it up, sitting silently in the traffic until it slowly increases to a crawl.

_Slow, but it’s still forward progression._

When they finally move beyond the scene of the accident, Lexa doesn’t dare to spare a glance at the damage, so Clarke does it for her.

“It looks like everybody’s okay.” Clarke announces. “The cars took the brunt of the damage.” She assures.

“That’s good.” Lexa says tensely. “They’re lucky.” Her voice cracks. She clears her throat, masking it with an exaggerated cough.

“Lexa?” Clarke says carefully.

“Yeah?” The brunette’s reply is strained, as though to summon all of her energy into speaking the single word .

“Can you please pull off at the next exit?” She thinks quickly on her feet. “I forgot that I need to grab something from the craft store.”

“Oh.” Lexa nods stiffly, flicking the turn signal as they shift into the next lane and down the exit.

Clarke is thankful that the brunette cooperates without any complaint. She directs them to the parking lot of a small shopping complex and Lexa kills the engine. When the brunette unbuckles her seatbelt, making to get out of the car, Clarke stays put, shaking her head when Lexa cocks her brow questioningly.

“Let’s just sit here and breathe for a second.” The blonde says. “Like yoga.”

“Seriously?” Lexa seems hesitant, but doesn’t object.

“Seriously.” The artist confirms, unbuckling her seatbelt, planting herself comfortably into the passenger seat.

“Okay.” The brunette surrenders. She cracks the windows and leans back in the seat. Clarke watches her through the corner of her eye, tuning into the rise and fall of Lexa’s chest, the brunette’s eyes closed as she inhales slowly, exhaling evenly. When her breathing reaches a steady pattern, Clarke indulges herself in studying the girl further; pouty lips, the little slope of her nose that upturns the slightest bit, dark full lashes, and her jawline chiseled by Michelangelo himself. Her lips are parted by a miniscule amount and Clarke can just barely make out the tiny bit of white from her teeth shining through.

When Lexa’s eyes flutter open in the afternoon sun, Clarke feels her own breath falter, quickly recovering before Lexa can turn to her.

“Hi.” She says softly, her voice worn and exhausted, but calmer now.

“Better?” The blonde asks.

“Yes.” Lexa nods easily. “Thank you.” She pauses for a bit, seeming to debate internally whether or not to voice whatever was on her mind.

“You can ask me anything, Lexa.” Clarke says, reading her mind. She wants to ensure that the brunette knows that her intentions are pure and that she cares, genuinely, no underlying or ulterior motives for sex or anything along those lines.

Green eyes meet her in a pensive stare and Clarke’s heart hammers trying to hold her gaze, allowing Lexa to sink deep into her, opening herself up for the brunette to try and find whatever it is she seemed to be searching for.

“How did you know?” Lexa finally asks.

It takes Clarke a moment to figure out what exactly the brunette is inquiring about.  It takes her even longer to answer the question itself.

“My mom pulled me out of a few breakdowns…” She replies, feeling her nails digging into her palms. “When I first found out about my dad, I used to call her on the phone, unable to say anything, just struggling to breathe.”

Lexa’s eyes flash with sympathy.  “I… I didn’t know.”

Clarke forces herself to smile, despite the ache in her chest. “You don’t ease pain. You overcome it.” She says sadly. “I’ve learned to live with it for the most part, though some days are easier than others.” She notes, referring back to the night of the gallery exhibition.

Lexa nods in agreement, allowing herself a second before speaking. “We never talk about her.” She says before correcting herself. “ _You_ never talk about her.” treads lightly.

“It’s complicated.” Clarke sighs. “He was a chemical engineer. There was an explosion and a beam fell on him, knocking him unconscious. By the time they found him, the fumes had already damaged so much of his brain. He was basically a immobile after the accident; vegetative. I didn’t…” her voice quivers as she sucks in a breath. “I didn’t want her to pull the plug. I hated her for so long. I couldn't even look at her. But I realize now that he wouldn’t have wanted to live like that. He wouldn’t have wanted _us_ to live like that. It took me so long to finally move past it.”

“So, you’ve forgiven her?” Lexa asks cautiously.

Clarke pauses to really consider it. _Did she?_

Her lips press into a line as she thinks hard about the real answer. Her mother had hurt her so much. But she had been hurting too, and even still, she let Clarke hate her because she loved her.

“Yes.” She swallows.

“And she knows?” The brunette presses, voice teetering on the edge of a whisper and a prayer.

“We kind of don’t talk anymore.” Clarke frowns at her own pettiness.

Lexa lets a beat drop before responding. “Do you want to?”

“Maybe someday.” The blonde confesses with hesitance. “Not yet.”

Clarke thinks back to all the times she had refused to answer her mother’s phone calls, the times she had turned it on mute. She thinks about the birthdays she willingly missed, the holiday dinners she refused to attend. Her mom probably sat at the kitchen table waiting. Was she alone too? Suddenly, the guilt absolutely eats away at her.

“Clarke?” Lexa’s raspy voice draws her back to the present moment.

“Yeah?” The blonde blinks.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The brunette offers.

“No.” She rasps. “I can’t… not yet.” She says apologetically. She needs to sort this out on her own. “Maybe someday.”

Lexa nods in understanding, allowing silence to wrap around them.

“Clarke?” The brunette says after a moment. The blonde turns, waiting expectantly for Lexa to continue. “How did you know about my wrist?”

“Your wrist?” Her brows furl.

“How did you know it would calm me down?” Lexa elaborates.

“I…” Clarke isn’t actually sure how she knew. She didn’t think anything of it, she just reached out. “I don’t know. Maybe it was just had a feeling.” She confesses.

“Oh. Okay.” The brunette seems to be considering something.

“Is there something I should know about it?” Clarke asks carefully.

“No, not yet.” Lexa says shyly. “Maybe someday.”

“Okay.” Clarke smiles patiently. “I can wait.”

\---

After the car incident, something shifts between the two. It’s subtle at first, just the simplest glance in the other’s direction that lingers a little longer than usual, a little longer than something meant to be platonic. It’s just to make sure, she tells herself, just in case, that the other was okay; _truly_ okay. It’s nice having the quiet assurance, though she isn’t sure what it means. It’s genuine though, that much she does know. Because she can feel it. It’s in the way that her blue eyes fill with so much pain and understanding at the same time.  Her lips would press together tentatively, the smallest stitch between her eyebrows until Lexa would give her a slight uptick of a smile and the blonde would relax. Clarke felt for her, and Lexa was still learning how to cope with it.

Clarke had continued to lend her the car, despite Anya clearly offering the allow her to do the same. “You don’t want to owe her anything” her sister had cautioned, but Lexa thinks that maybe she already does. She just isn’t sure what that thing is just yet.

Instead, she insisted that Anya needed the Jeep to run wedding errands, reasoning that having two cars would allow them to cover twice as much ground. Her sister doesn’t argue with that logic, though Lexa could tell how much she still wants too, her rebuttal sitting on the very tip of her tongue.

The first week, Clarke would come to Lexa’s apartment, switching seats to allow her into the driver’s side. But after only a few days, Lexa decided it was too much to burden the blonde with, so she resorts back to taking the subway over to the blonde’s instead. It seemed terribly inefficient to have Clarke picking her up and dropping her off at her apartment between meetings and appointments, only to come back again for yoga a few hours later.

Instead, Lexa starts packing her things ahead of time, folding them neatly into a duffle bag, filling her floral water bottle, and slinging it over her shoulder before making her way to the blonde’s apartment under the guise of convenience. She makes sure to allot more than enough time to make her way to the subway station and over to the blonde’s residence.

In actuality, she finds herself spending more time with Clarke in general too, not even taking wedding preparations into account. It just seems easier to spend her days at the blonde’s apartment on the days when she has to juggle yoga classes and wedding responsibilities while Anya is away at work.

She later admits to herself that it’s really quite comfortable in the artist’s studio, once she manages to overlook the crowding of canvases and easels scattered around the perimeter of the walls. It, in a sense, had its own messy charm to it that over time, Lexa begins to grow rather fond of.

When she arrives, always early, Clarke would, more often than not, still be dressed in a paint covered t-shirt, a stain or two swiped unknowingly across her cheek or smeared on the bridge of her nose. If Lexa were to be honest, this was probably her favorite version of the blonde.

It was a Friday morning, the second of which, since they had started their new driving arrangement. Lexa had just come back from her morning run, existing out of the shower to find that she had one missed call from the blonde. She chuckles. Clarke was probably going to ask her if they could get burritos or Spaghetti-O’s for lunch, since Lexa had started packing an extra lunch for the artist as a small way of replaying her for her kindness.

_“You don’t need to make me fancy food.” Clarke had joked. “I’m 100% okay with Spaghetti-O’s.”_

_“You know that stuff is awful for you.” Lexa scolded lightly._

_“But it’s so good.” She threw her hands in the air dramatically._

_Lexa had smiled then, knowing that there must be some underlying meaning behind the blonde’s fixation with the canned “food” if it really even qualified as that. That’s something she started to pick up on as she slowly started to chip away at the blonde’s exterior. There was always something deeper, and Lexa was growing increasingly more invested in discovering what those things were._

Shaking the thought from her head, placing the phone on the sink ledge, she presses play on the voice message. It crackles or a moment before the sound of the blonde’s voice resounds off the bathroom tiles.

“Hey, Lexa…” Clarke’s voice is uncharacteristically rough and scratchy, even for her. It catches Lexa off guard and she pauses for a moment, mascara wand frozen in place right in front of her eye.

“Look, I know I promised to ride along with you but I’m really not feeling well.” There’s a lull followed by a fit of distant coughing. Even away from the phone, it sounds painful as it tears through her lungs.

‘Ugh,” The blonde grunts. “Sorry, that was so gross.” She apologizes with a sniff.

“I don’t want to throw off your schedule, but you should probably take the car without me.” Another thick cough before she clears her throat, voice cracking with strain. “I’m going to leave the door unlocked. The keys are in the bowl on the counter as usual. I’m really sorry. “There’s another strangled sound that comes from the back of the blonde’s throat, then a fit of harsh, and honestly, miserable coughs before Clarke groans and the message ends.

Lexa frowns before scrolling through her contacts to make another call.

—

It takes her a little longer to make it to the blonde’s apartment, having to make a few additional stops to compensate for the last minutes changes to her plans. When the door opens, the apartment is indeed unlocked, as Clarke had assured it would be. She slowly slips off her shoes at the door. There’s a soft buzz of voices coming from the blonde’s room. Lexa pads down the hallway to the bedroom with a bottle of water and her bag, knocking lightly on the doorframe to get the blonde’s attention.

“Clarke?” She peers in through the doorway tentatively.

“Lexa?” The blonde sits up. “What are you…” some sort of revelation occurs across the artist’s features. “Shit. Did I forget to put the keys out?”

“No.” Lexa chuckles. “They’re there.”

“Oh.” The blonde eyes her bag before asking, “Is everything okay?”

“I think I should be the one asking _you_ that.” The brunette retorts pointedly.

“I’m fine.” Clarke says, though it would have been more believable if she didn’t fall into a coughing fit as she says it. Lexa quickly steps towards the bed to rub her hand gently against the girl’s back before she speaks.

“I’m fine.” The blonde tries to say more convincingly this time. “It’s just a cold.”

“Mhmm.” Lexa raises a brow in challenge before nodding to the bed. “May I?”

“I don’t want to get you sick.” Clarke shakes her head. “I’m germy.”

“Hey Germy, I’m Lexa.” Lexa rolls her eyes, biting back a smile when she sees the girl scowling at her horrible comeback.

“You worry about your body, I’ll worry about mine.” Lexa gives her a playful nudge, but respects her wishes and stays in place. She feels Clarke’ eyes focus on her figure at the mention of her body. She resists the urge to snort.

“You’re not dressed for class.” The blonde notes rather obviously.

“No, I’m not.” Lexa parrots light-heartedly, digging through her bag to withdraw a bottle of water, cough syrup, and dual pack of Dayquil and Nyquil, Advil, and a packet of cough drops, lining them up on the nightstand. “What have you taken today?”

Clarke looks overwhelmed at the vast collection of medication. “Umm, nothing.” She confesses guiltily. “I was gonna try to see if I could ride it out for a day.”

The brunette sighs, clicking her tongue. “For someone who studied medicine, that wasn’t exactly your brightest decision.”

After the evening in the car, Clarke had started to open up a bit about her mother. She wanted Clarke to go into medicine and for a while, the blonde abided, but found that it really wasn’t what she wanted. She was doing it for her mother and to make her happy, trying desperately to keep her happy while her father was still on life-support. After it ended, she switched her major out of spite, but in the long run, it made her happier. As conflicting as it was, it needed to happen.

“Hey!” The blonde pouts playfully as Lexa uncaps the cough syrup. “It was only for a year. I never finished the pre-med program.” She defends, thankfully not taking any offense to Lexa’s playful jab.

“I know.” Lexa smiles gently, finding the jut of Clarke’s pink lips rather adorable. She quickly blinks away the thought, refocusing on pouring the thick liquid into the small service cup, squinting slightly as she raises it to the light to measure out 5 mL.

“Here.” She holds the cough syrup out to the blonde.

The blonde scrunches her nose up as the liquid goops into the container. Lexa would have found the stubbornness sort of adorable, had the blonde’s health not taken precedence over her endearment.

“Nuh-uhh” She shakes her head, a few blonde strands sticking to her forehead despite the movement.

“Open.” Lexa says, eyes flitting to pursed pink lips.

“Please no.” Clarke begs. “That stuff tastes horrible!”

Lexa rolls her eyes. “You’re on the brink of a fever, Clarke.” She scolds. “You have to.”

At that, the blonde flat out _whines_.

Lexa can’t help but smirk. She looks nothing like the cocky, confident girls he first met. That girl was surprisingly easy to get to bend to her will. The memory sparks an idea.

Cocking her hip and lowering her gaze, she leans down slowly, her lips hovering over the blonde before shifting to whisper as sultrily as she can into her ear.

“ _Please_ , Clarke.” She requests. “For me?”

The blonde gasps and Lexa takes her opportunity to draw back, quickly slipping the contents of the cup between the girl’s parted lips.

“Ugh! God!” Clarke’s eyes widen as she practically chokes the liquid down, flailing dramatically. “I’m dying. Actually dying. Holy shit.” She grabs for the water on the bedside table, chugging more than half of it while knocking the rest of the table’s contents onto the floor.

Lexa schools her face to be as impassive as possible, resisting the urge to laugh at the blonde’s theatrics.

“You’re so extra sometimes.” She tsks. “You’re not dying. You shouldn’t joke about that.”

The blonde straightens at that, bowing her head apologetically. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Lexa sighs. She hadn’t meant to ruin the girl’s mood. She was actually rather amused by the blonde’s antics. She would rather have the goofy Clarke back than the scolded Clarke in front of her now sulking like a kicked puppy.

“Hey, it’s fine.” She places a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and for a moment she feels her leaning into it before she pulls away. “I’m going to make us something to eat.” Lexa says. “You haven’t eaten breakfast,” She glances at the time on her phone. “Or lunch, have you?”

Clarke’s guilty pink cheeks already give her the answer.

“I want the rest of those taken by the time I get back.” She says with as much authority as she can muster, channeling her old self, the one who ran business meetings with reverie and the upmost professionalism.

“Uhh, okay.” the blonde’s eyes widen at the change in her tone. The last thing Lexa sees is her nodding dumbly from the corner of her eye.

She busies herself in the kitchen, now having grown accustomed to the layout of the apartment. It’s starting to know just how comfortable she feels walking in and finding her way around so naturally. She returns to the bedroom to find Clarke, with enraptured, droopy eyes glued to the television screen. There’s a blonde girl with an ornate headpiece and a ridiculously unrealistic figure running through an animated city, a black cat by her side.

“Hey.” She says, making her presence known.

“Shh!” Clarke hushes, a dopey grin plastered on her face as she places a finger over her lip, slightly askew. “Sailor Moon is on.” She slurs.

It only takes Lexa a moment to realize Clarke must have mixed the Dayquil and Nyquil pills when they had spilled onto the floor.

“Okay, Clarke.” She pries the remote from the blonde’s hands with ease, thankful that the drugs had slowed her reflexes, pausing the program.

“Food first.” She instructs. “They you can go back to Sailor Moon.”

“Lexahhh!” Clarke frowns at the tray of food in front of her; a sandwich, soup, and more water.

The brunette holds up a hand, halting her.

She withdraws an aluminum can from behind her back and a spoon.

The biggest grin slowly spreads over Clarke’s face as realization dawns over her. Lexa can’t help but giggle at the childlike expression on the girl’s face. It’s absolute elation.

“For me?” The blonde asks, actually tearing up, her smile is just about ready to split her face in half.

“Yes, Clarke.” Lexa chuckles “For you.” She pops the tab open, handing it to the blonde. Clarke cradles the can of Spaghetti-O’s in both hands as though Lexa had just given her a precious diamond.

“Eat, Clarke.” She places the spoon inside the can before nudging the blonde’s knee. Clarke wiggles, sliding over, willingly so Lexa can join her on the bed, backs resting against the headboard.

Clarke takes one bite of her meal, blissfully chewing before remembering the paused program in front of her. She looks pleadingly at Lexa with water blue eyes and her bottom lip pushed out. She gazes hopefully into Lexa’s green eyes.

“Only if you promise to eat this soup.” She gestures to the bowl on the tray bracketing her hips.

Clarke nods enthusiastically.

“Okay.” Lexa laughs, un-pausing the show and placing the remote back in the blonde’s lap.

Clarke devours the Spaghetti-O’s easily, but only makes it through half of the bowl of chicken noodle soup before her head starts to bob, weight falling into Lexa’s side. She starts nodding forward, despite she tries to catch herself. Lexa takes pity on her, removing the spoon and bowl from her sleepy clutches. 

“How about you take a nap?” Lexa suggests, switching off the television, much to Clarke’s dismay.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” The blonde grumbles, the medication clearly making her grumpy and fatigued. Despite her stubbornness, it’s clear that her voice is weary and her breathing passageways are starting to get congested as well.  

“You do.” Lexa shifts off of the bed, no longer supporting Clarke’s weight. She falls to her side and into the pillows with a whimper.

“Come back.” The artist whines pathetically. She kicks out her legs, pretending to throw a tantrum.

“Baby,” Lexa teases, though her eyes are not unkind. “You need sleep.” She insists, giving Clarke a push under the covers. “I’ll come back after I wash these dishes, okay?”

The blonde sighs, eyes drooping as she gazes at Lexa.

“What?” She asks as she tucks the blonde under the sheets.

“I like when you call me that.” Clarke says with a lazy smile. “Baby.” She repeats dreamily.

“Go to sleep, Clarke.” Lexa laughs, gathering the tray of dishes and making her way towards the doorway.

“Hey, Woods?” The blonde rasps after her.

“Yeah, Clarke?” The brunette indulges her one last time.

“Will you be the Tuxedo Mask to my Sailor Moon?” Clarke requests with a sleep induced stupor.

“Sure.” Lexa chuckles, turning her back towards the lounging girl. “Anything you want.” She says over her shoulder, hand hovering over the door handle.

“I don’t want anything.” The blonde mumbles sleepily. “Just you.”

Lexa can’t help the way her heart seems to jump at the words.  Her fingers wrap around the doorknob and it takes her a moment to be able to turn and face the girl again. When she looks back though, Clarke’s eyes are already closed, and her chest rises and falls with heavy, congested breathing.

“Get well soon, Clarke.” She whispers before closing the door.  

She takes a moment to calm herself, allowing the flow of the kitchen sink drown out the rush in her heart.

_It’s too soon._

She scrubs vigorously at the dishes, placing them on the rack before retrieving a towel to wipe them dry. When she’s finished, she considers just settling on the couch and watching television there, or maybe going into the studio to admire the blonde’s artwork for the umpteenth time. But there’s a nagging feeling that tells her to go back into the room. She promised.

She knows Clarke needs the rest though, so instead she slowly cracks the door open, cringing when it lets out a shrill creak.

Clarke rolls over.

“Sorry. “ Lexa apologizes. “Go back to sleep.”

“Lexa?” Clarke defies her, opening her eyes to look at her with a bleary gaze. “You came back.”

“I…” She hesitates before giving in. “Yes, I did, Clarke.” She makes her way back to the bed. “Please go back to sleep.” She requests, but Clarke just scoots to the side, patting the newly vacated space, eyes half-lidded.

Her heart gets the best of her, pushing her sense aside as she climbs under the covers. The blonde, still in a drugged state of exhaustion snuggles closer to her, reaching blindly for the remote before dropping it unceremoniously into Lexa’s lap before settling close to her, wrapping one arm around her waist. Lexa stiffens, slowly shifting to look down at the blonde. Her eyes are closed, mouth parted as she lies on her stomach, having quickly fallen back asleep.

Lexa stifles her laughter before turning on the television but muting the program. She watches two more episodes of Sailor Moon with the blonde pressed against her side before she hears the sound of the apartment door opening and the drop of keys into the ceramic bowl outside.

Carefully, she lifts the blonde’s head away, sliding out from underneath her. Clarke moans before nuzzling into the warm spot left behind while Lexa smiles endearingly.

She makes her way into the hallway to greet Octavia, who isn’t actually alone. Lincoln enters into the apartment right behind her. They both wave awkwardly when they realize they aren’t alone.

“Uhh, hey, Lexa.” Octavia’s cheeks turn pink and Lexa realizes she was just a few seconds away from finding the two in a rather compromising position. “I thought you and Clarke were going to be out.” She says while Lincoln ducks his head, strolling into the kitchen to avoid the awkward situation.

“Uhh,” It takes a moment to collect herself after seeing her student and her sister’s best friend after being caught about to do _that._ She shakes her head to clear away the image. “Clarke isn’t feeling well, so I canceled yoga.” She explains.

“Oh no.” Octavia rushes off down the hall. Lexa is about to tell her that she’s already taken care of everything, but decides to simply follow her instead.

“Lexa?” the blonde husks when the door opens again. The brunette feels a tug at her heart when the blonde reaches out into the empty distance between her and the doorway.

“It’s O.” Octavia answers. “Lexa’s right behind me.” The roommate says as she approaches the bed. Lexa busies herself with setting out a new, correct dosage for the blonde to take while Octavia speaks in hushed tones to her roommate.

“What happened, Clarkey?” She cooes, placing the palm of her hand against the blonde’s forehead. “You were fine when I left this morning.” She frowns. Clarke obviously wasn’t getting any better.

The blonde mumbles something incoherent before turning on her side, wrapping her arms around the pillow that Lexa had propped behind her back.

“Sorry, what was that?” Octavia asks while Lexa watches the two interact.

Clarke lifts her head slowly before speaking again. “SmellslikeLexah.” She slurs before slumping back into the sheets with a pitiful whine. “My head hurts. Where’s Lexa?”

This time, it’s Lexa’s turn to flush red. Her student gives her a kind smile before tilting her head towards the sickly blonde. “Maybe you should take it from here.” She says.

“Hey, Clarke.” The yoga instructor says gently. “I’m right here.”

“Fix me.” Clarke pleads, sounding as though she’s actually on the verge of tears. Lexa reaches her hand down to brush away the baby hairs clinging to her sweaty forehead.

“I’m trying, Clarke.” She assures, rubbing the girl’s back lightly. “I’m trying.” She repeats.

Clarke releases a heavy sigh, gradually relaxing under Lexa’s gentle touch. When she finally falls back asleep, she goes back out into the living room to find Lincoln sitting in the kitchen alone.

“Where’s Octavia?” She asks.

“Ran out to buy some food.” Lincoln says. “Apparently Clarke was supposed to get groceries this afternoon but that obviously fell through.”

“Oh.” Lexa frowns. When she was cooking, she had noticed that the refrigerator was looking a little scarce, but was too occupied with taking care of Clarke to really pay it any mind.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Lincoln says kindly.

“You didn’t want to go with her?” Lexa asks.

“No.” He smiles. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Me?” She hesitates.

“Yeah.” He grins. “So you canceled yoga to take care of Clarke?”

Lexa bites her lip.

“What’s going on between you two?” He asks.

The brunette eyes him skeptically, narrowing her gaze.

“Calm down.” He chuckles. “I won’t tell Anya, don’t worry. I know how she gets. She’s my best friend, after all.” He points out. “Or Octavia.” He adds after a beat.

Lexa finds it weird how interlaced the people in her life seemed to become. Her sister’s best friend just so happened to be dating one of her students. And that student’s roommate jus to happened to be…

What _was_  Clarke?

A few weeks ago, or even a month ago, she would have said Clarke was nothing more than a friend. But she was a friend that made her laugh, tried almost too hard to make her blush, caused her to roll her eyes, and feel so many strong emotions that she had forgotten even existed; forgotten that she was capable of feeling.

On top of that, they had shared a kiss; one that Lexa ran far, far away from after witnesses Clarke’s blinding rage and heartbroken pain, only to have the blonde offer herself so selflessly to get back into her good graces.

Yet even under the tough exterior and her “player” image, she could see the vulnerable girl that Clarke really was; youthful and ever so clumsy, hiding behind the fake appearance she let on. But Clarke had opened up to her, shown her another side to her that she didn’t let anyone else see: the one that stuttered and tripped over her own two feet, the one that rambled nervously when Lexa touched her, turned crimson when someone complimented her art, and lost track of time just because she wanted to play one more round of basketball with the neighbor children.

“Lexa?” Lincoln’s voice tears her away from her thoughts.

“Sorry, what?” She apologizes.

“Do you like her?” He asks.

She did, but admitting it this early was too risky.

“I’m not sure how I feel about her.” She says instead.

Lincoln nods once. “Octavia mentioned you getting into a fight. It’s not my business.” He says holding up his hands. “I don’t like getting involved.”

“Thanks.” She says grateful that he wasn’t going to pry any further.

“But if I _were_ to get involved…” He smiles.

 _Spoke too soon._ She frowns.

“Lincoln.” Her tone is warning.

“Hold on.” He laughs. “Don’t get defensive just yet.” He teases. “I’m just saying, everybody deserves at shot at happiness.”

She’s quiet so he continues.

“Remember Luna?” He probes.

 _Of course._ She resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Yeah, I know.” He scoffs. “I was so hurt by her, but if I didn’t let another person in, I wouldn’t have found Octavia.” He points out. “I’m not saying that you’re in love with Clarke, but I think we all know there’s something there. And it could be good, if you let it. It’s just a matter of exploring it if, and when you’re ready.” He says kindly.

“Thanks, Lincoln.” She says appreciatively.

“But, if anybody asks, we never had this conversation.” He gives a wink.

“Oh,” she laughs. “Definitely not.”

“Especially Anya.” He tacks on, causing Lexa to laugh even harder.

“She scares you, doesn’t she?” The brunette asks.

“She scares everybody, doesn’t she?” He counters.

“Almost.” Lexa agrees. “Roan’s definitely got his work cut out for him.”

“Don’t we all.” Lincoln says knowingly.

They falls into easy conversation until the bedroom door opens and Clarke comes stumbling out, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she drags her feet.

“Hey sleepyhead.” Lexa greets. “How are you feeling?”

“You guys are so loud.” She grumbles before letting out the measliest kitten-like yawns, completely ruining the illusion of her anger from seconds ago.

“Sorry.” She and Lincoln both apologize.

“Meh.” The blonde just grunts, eyes half close before shuffling towards the pair. She probably would have made it too, except the blanket around her shoulder had started to slip off, dragging onto the floor. Her foot gets tangled in it, sending her flying forward.

Lexa’s reacts quickly, holding her arms out for the blonde to fall into her embrace. “Easy there.” She says. “Let’s get you some more meds and back into bed, okay?” She says.

Clarke mumbles something that sounds vaguely like an agreement.

“Like I said,” Lincoln laughs from his seat. “Cut out for us.”

Lexa intends to send him a glare but Clarke wraps her arms around her waist, leaning into her, and Lincoln’s comment is quickly forgotten in favor of indulging the blonde she envelopes in the fleece blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter was a long one. I actually planned another section but realized it was getting ridiculous so I broke it up in two. Please let me know what you think.  
> Also, can someone please tell me what color Aden's hair is? Some people said red, some say blonde. And the fanart is completely varied. I don't know how to write it!


	15. Push and Pull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa battles with her internal conflict over her feelings for Clarke while Clarke offers herself up to Lexa to take.

When Lexa finds out that her car will be repaired a week early, she knows she should be excited, grateful, ecstatic even. But instead she feels a conflicting sense of disappointment. Having a car again should be convenient, yet the strange tug in her heart isn't.

After informing Anya of Clarke’s health, her sister insists on driving her to yoga the next morning and Lexa concedes, knowing she has a job and is responsible for teaching classes. She's already canceled twice in the last month, both of which, where a result of Clarke. She wonders how the blonde managed to dig herself so deep under her skin so quickly.

“I'll be back in an hour.” Anya informs her as the Jeep continues to run in the parking lot outside of the yoga studio. “Let me know if anything changes.”

"Will do.”  She abides, thanking her sister with the wave before heading inside.

Class goes smoothly and at the end, she’s approached by Lincoln and Octavia who greet her with a smile.

“Nice class today, Lexa.” Lincoln praises as he rolls up his yoga mat, tucking it under his arm.

“Thanks.” The brunette smiles appreciatively.

“I really liked the new stuff we got to try today.” Octavia adds, joining the pair.

Lincoln throws his free arm around her with familiarity and ease and Lexa watches them with a sense of yearning. She misses that comforting feeling of having somebody in her arms and having somebody to always be there: a feeling of warmth and security that she hasn't felt in a long time.

“Good. I'm going to try to incorporate some of the new poses into our daily routines from now on. I figured it was time for a change.” She says. A few days ago she decided something new could be a benefit and not something to run away from. Change could be good for her and maybe help her with moving on from the past. _Maybe, just maybe_.

“Definitely.” Lincoln smiles as though he knows something she doesn't. He turns to Octavia, giving her a wink and the brunette absolutely lights up. She forces herself to turn away from their affection, feeling particularly lonely.  

“Oh, Lexa! By the way, I almost forgot! I have something for you.” Octavia chimes in.

“Me?” The instructor asks.

“Yeah. It's from Clarke. She said it was a thank you present.” Octavia divulges. Lexa can't help the blush that creeps up into her cheeks at the mention of the blonde, hoping that neither of her students notices.

Thankfully, it seems that way since Octavia is rifling through her bag and Lincoln is too caught up staring admiringly at her as she does. They really were a good pair, she notes. Lincoln was right to let someone new in.

Octavia hands her a small, brown paper bag. “Are you two okay?” Her student inquiries carefully when she notices that Lexa had been lost in thought.

“Yeah.” Lexa nods, shaking the feelings from her mind. “We're getting there.” She says before opening the back, taking a peek at its contents.

Inside is a doughnut with a napkin that has a small drawing on it and some loopy scrawl. Despite constantly being around artist, Lexa realizes she has never actually seen Clarke's handwriting before. It wasn't what she had expected, just like many other aspects about the blonde. It was rounder than anticipated, careful and precise with big loops and open lettering.

“I doughnut know what I would have done without you.” It reads. Lexa places her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

“What did she write?” Octavia asks, intrigued by what her roommate’s message had been.

Lexa holds out the napkin for the student to see, while Octavia rolls her eyes with a snort.

“She's so lame sometimes.” The brunette laughs, joining in Lexa’s amusement. “But I have to hand it to her, her drawing skills are still pretty on point.” She compliments.

Lexa can't disagree. She never expected someone to go into such great detail to doodle a pastry on a napkin. Something about it, even such a simple, small gesture made her somewhat giddy inside.

Instead of simply passing on a reply to the blonde, via her roommate, Lexa sends them off before setting out the doughnut on the napkin and grabbing a pen from the desk in the corner of the room. She gives her best effort as she attempts to sketch a drawing of a cake and herself as a stick person. She even goes as far as to add a braid to the stick figure’s head to represent herself.

_You're welcome! It was a piece of cake. -L_

She writes back, sketching out mediocre attempt at a slice of cake. The phone vibrates a few minutes later.

_To be honest, that looked more like a slice of pizza than a slice of cake, but I'll give it to you… - C_

Even through text message, Lexa can still hear Clarke's teasing tone. She rolls her eyes with a huff before typing back.

_We can’t all be artists like you. How are you feeling today? - L_

She takes a bite of the pastry, savoring the sweet taste in her mouth.

_Better. A lot better. Seriously, thank you. The Spaghetti-Os were the best part. It was like my dad was taking care of me all over again. - C_

Lexa pauses at that mention of Jake, setting the doughnut back down. She had no idea that Clarke's fixation, or rather attachment, to the food had been a result of her father. Again, she realizes how much more there is to Clarke and how much there still is to learn. And to her surprise, how much she really wants to learn it. Afraid to scare the blonde off, she vies for humor instead.

_You comparing me to a man? -L_

Lexa texts adding a laughing emoji.

_Only the BEST man. -C_

Clarke shoots back.

_I believe Lincoln is the best man, technically. - L_

Lexa replies instantly.

She can practically imagine Clarke rolling her eyes at that. She smiles to herself when the blonde responds.

_You know what I meant. -C_

A car horn outside causes her to look up. She sees her sister through the glass doors, sunglasses on the bridge of her nose as she waits with an impassive expression on her face. Wrapping up the doughnut and placing it back into the bag, she gathers her belongings and locks up the studio.

_Anya's here. We're going to do wedding errands. I'll talk to you later. -L_

_Have fun! -C_

_Thank you! Get some rest, Clarke. Get well soon! -L_

With that, she clicks off her phone and slides it into her back pocket before making her way out to her sister.

“Hey An,” she greets with a smile before taking in her older sibling’s expression. “What?”

“You were smiling at your phone for the last 10 minutes.” Her sister calls out. Lexa feels her ears burning.

“You've been here the whole time?” She asks.

“Why do you think I honked?” Anya snorts. “Who were you texting?”

“Uhh,” she hesitates, chewing her lip. “Clarke.” Lexa confesses.

“Clarke.” Anya repeats with a short nod.

The brunette studies her unreadable expression before jumping to the blonde’s defense. “She's not as bad as you think she is. She actually has been very helpful, especially with my car situation.” Lexa provides.

“Lex-”

“And did you know that she's really good at basketball? I mean, I knew that she probably had skills,” she pauses with a smile before continuing. “But she's also very clumsy. So I didn't know how good she was.”

“Lex-”

“But she's good. She plays in the park sometimes with the neighborhood boys.” She recalls the way Clarke’s eyes had shined so brightly when the kids had concluded the game by tackling her into a hug. “They all really look up to her. It's kind of sweet.”

“Alexandria!!” Anya shouts, startling the brunette out of her monologue.

“What?” She yelps, eyed widened.

“I literally just said her name. Geez!” The blonde says with a lighthearted huff. “You just went off with the rest.”

“Oh.” Lexa ducks her head to hide her blush. “Yeah. I'm just grateful, that's all.” She tries to conclude dumbly.

“Mhmm.” Anya hums from the driver’s seat while Lexa takes a moment to calm the strange fluttering in her chest.

 _Friends first_. She tries to remind herself.

\---

After sleeping in and waking up feeling exponentially better, Clarke lies awake debating on what she wants to do with herself. She still hasn't fully recovered enough to really go out but it's Saturday and she doesn't want to spend it holed up in her bedroom doing nothing.

She thinks back to the short conversation earlier that morning with Lexa, scrolling back through her messages to look at the brunette's drawing. Clarke had always thought Lexa was so put together and perfect, but these past few days had proven themselves to be revealing. Maybe Lexa wasn't perfect after all, Clarke laughs to herself, realizing how ridiculously askew the brunette's drawing really was. But by the way Lexa had a playfully pouted in her text reply makes Clarke think that maybe she still sort of is.

But there was something Lexa had been hiding, or maybe not hiding, but was too hurt or too scared to talk about. Her mind starts to wander back to their conversations in the car when they had driven passed the accident and Lexa had almost lost her mind to a panic attack.

Clarke quickly realizes she needs to talk to her, no matter how much it may hurt. She finishes making some toast and coffee, stomach feeling unsettled just a thought. When she can no longer bear the idea, she dials her number, and inhaling slowly.

“Hello” the woman's voice sounds unsure, as though she can barely believe it. To her credit, Clarke probably would have sounded just as breathless.

“Hi, Mom.” Her voice cracks. “Is now a good time to talk?”

\---

“It's nice seeing you ladies again!” Becca greets when try walk up to the doorstep of the planner's office.

“Thanks! You too, Becca!” Lexa replies.

“And how is everything going, Anya?” She asks, turning to the blonde as the make their way inside.

“It's going.” Anya says blandly, plopping into the chair across from the desk as Becca crosses her legs to sit in front for them, elbows resting gently on the table as she lays her chin atop of her laced fingers.

Becca chuckles, sharing a look with Lexa as if to offer her sympathy. and to express her amusement at the same time. Anya really was loving, it just took time, a _lot_ of time. for her to really trust you. Lexa thinks to herself.

“Well, I hope that everything I've arranged for has been more than satisfactory.” She proposes.

“It has.” Lexa answers with a nod. “Thank you.”

“No worries, thank you both.” Becca smiles. “Now, we still have a few more odds and ends to wrap up. For example: the venue, seating arrangements, DJ, and songs. There are…” Becca hesitates before looking at Anya, reading her expression.

She turns her attention to the back of the room where her assistant is standing by the door. “Peri, can you please give us a minute?” She says addressing the woman. Her assistant nods and exits the room latching the door behind her.

“Additionally, there's a father daughter dance.” Becca says, eyes soft and warm as she addresses the siblings. Lexa swallows thickly as she sees Anya tense. “Is there anyone…”

“No.” Anya bites, clenching her jaw. “We’re skipping it.”

The room remains silent, tension suffocating the trio for a moment before Becca speaks up again. "Very well. Do you have some sort of playlist you want to use for the evening? Your couple’s first dance?”

The planning process reminds her of all the things she's gained, but also everything that they had lost. Soon they move onto seating arrangements. Anya offhandedly to add an extra seat for Lexa’s plus one though the planner looks at her with the same matched confusion that is spelled out on Lexa’s face.

When the meeting concludes, Lexa lingers behind momentarily, before turning back to the planner, whispering quickly in her ear.

“You're sure?” Becca asks warily, pen hovering over the notebook paper.

“Yes.” Lexa insists with a sharp nod.

The planner abides, jotting down some notes on the DJs order form.

“You're a good sister.” She compliments.

“She is too.” Lexa says before exiting the building where Anya is waiting on the stairs with her arms crossed but concern on her face.

“What took you so long?” Anya asks when she finally climbs back into the car.

“Bathroom.” She lies. Anya makes a noise to signify that she obviously doesn't believe her, but the blonde doesn't bother to ask any further. Lexa considers it a blessing for the moment and doesn't push her luck. After strapping into the jeep, Anya starts the car and backs them out of the parking lot.

“So where to now?” Her sister asks, hands resting calmly on the steering wheel.

“I don't know.” Lexa shrugs. “I was hoping to swing by Octavia’s.”

“Isn't she with Lincoln at his place? They spend Saturdays together.” Anya reminds her.

“Oh,” Lexa pauses, hoping to remain impassive. “I guess I'll just…”

“You want to go to see Clarke?” Anya deduces as she studies her. Lexa can see the wheels turning in Anya’s eyes while her sister analyzes her, brown orbs searching and careful. She knows that Anya is suspecting something. What that is, Lexa can't even pinpoint herself. She shrinks back slightly in her seat under her sister’s watchful gaze, waiting for another blow involving her distaste for Clarke.

“Make her drive you home.” Anya finally says. It's the closest to her accepting that Clarke wasn't all that bad. Maybe it would be the closest thing to her admitting that she was slowly coming around to tolerating her friendship with her little sister. That doesn't go to say that she won't still be ridiculously protective Lexa, but it's progress and progress is always good, as Lexa has recently learned.

\---

“So your dad is the one who got you into Spaghetti-Os?” Lexa asks, watching Clarke munch on a rather bland looking piece of toast, a bowl of soup resting on the coffee table as they sit nestled across from one another on the couch.

“Yeah.” The blonde nods, pushing the bread aside and moving on to the soup. “Whenever he was too busy, it was faster to eat that than make something from scratch. On most days, he didn't have enough time to eat lunch at work, or couldn't step away from monitoring the chemicals in the lab, so he would just eat them cold. I picked up on it when I was younger.”

Lexa laughs. “You are so unbelievably mushy and sentimental.” She teases affectionately. Clarke sets her spoon in the bowl to shoot Lexa the most serious expression she can, slowly tilting her chin. But the sly look on her face easily breaks into a pearly white grin.

“Don't tell anyone!” Clarke hushes her. “I have a badass image to uphold it.”

The brunette snorts, rolling her eyes. “Sure.” She chuckles.

“I do!” The blonde starts pouting, which causes Lexa to continue laughing even harder. Clarke really likes the sound of her laugh, it's light and airy.

“I don't see it.” Lexa mocks playfully.

Clarke gasps in fake offense before glaring with narrowed brow. She schools her expression to be as stiffened as possible until the brunette shifts. 

“You know some things you see with your eyes, others you see with your heart.” The blonde recites.

Lexa tilts her head in confusion. “Is that a quote?” She asks.

“Maybe…” Clarke says with a sheepish smile.

“What’s it from?” The brunette inquires.

Clarke rubs at the back of her neck, scrunching up her face before bashfully admitting, “The Land Before Time.”

“You mean like the kid's movie?” Lexa raises a brow. At that, Clarke's cheeks grow just a little bit warmer. “Oh my god.” The brunette bursts out laughing. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were cool.”

“Hey!” Clarke pouts. “Don't judge! Those movies were a pivotal part of my childhood, thank you very much!” She defends indignantly.

“I watched them too,” Lexa holds her hands up in surrender. “They were my favorite.”

“You did?” Clarke can’t help how much her voice betrays her bafflement.

Lexa pauses to study her and Clarke feels her cheeks brighten under the girl’s emerald gaze.

“No” Lexa deadpans, the straight face only lasting milliseconds before she breaks into a breathtaking smile that has Clarke melting. She’s a complete puddle once Lexa starts giggling.

“That was cruel, Woods.” Clarke does her best to harden her stare, unable to hold any sort of begrudging feeling towards the brunette. But she does manage to toss a pillow in Lexa's direction, which she catches with ease, scooting forward and propping it behind her back. Her shift causes their feet to touch but neither of them makes any attempt to draw away.

“What are you going to do about it?” Lexa challenges, leaning even further into Clarke's space.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Clarke manages to think on her feet enough to retort, though she really doesn't have anything further up her sleeve at the moment. Lexa is close enough now for her to get a whiff of her perfume and suddenly, everything is much more dizzying.

“I would. That’s why I asked.” Lexa responds smoothly before her lips tilt dangerously to the side, transforming into a smug smirk. “Clearly.” She tacks on.

“Okay. Just for the sass. I’m not gonna tell you.” Clarke huffs, trying to shuffle back, but her spine is already pressed against the arm of the couch and her sudden movement makes her brush her foot against Lexa’s even more.

“You're all talk.” Lexa acknowledges, nudging back with her own foot before sitting up, coming even closer until her knees are pressed to Clarke’s shins. “Don’t act so high and mighty.”

_Shit._

“You have no proof.” She shoots back, swallowing the nerves bubbling in her stomach as she continues their playful argument, now acutely aware of just how close they had gotten.

“Don’t need to. Your eyes give everything away.” The yoga instructor notes, biting her lip.

“What? No they don’t!” Clarke flushes red as a tomato.

“They do.” Lexa smiles kindly. “They always have, it's endearing though.”

“I... What? No. I’m not endearing. Take it back.” The blonde gasps, clearly flustered.

“Make me.” The brunette smirks, leaning just a little closer.

_Fuck. She smells good._

Clarke wonders how they got here. She knows she's pushing the boundaries of their friendship, and the banter had always come so easily for them. But they were sitting so close, too close to be platonic.

“I…” Blue eyes dart downwards to Lexa's lips just as the front door opens and Octavia strolls in. The pair quickly jumps apart, guiltily trying to calm the rapid flutter in their chests.

“Am I interrupting something?” Octavia raises a brow, eyeing them with a cautiously suspicious skepticism. She drops her keys into their place on the counter, clinking in the ceramic bowl. The brunette uses one hand to steady herself against the door as she unlace her shoes, placing them on the rack by the doorway.

“N-no.” Clarke replies back, voice still somewhat unsteady. “I was actually just about to show Lexa something in the studio.”

“You were?” Green eyes widen.

“Yes.” Clarke nods, standing abruptly. “Ready?”

Lexa nods, sharing a confused look with Octavia before following the blonde down the hall.

She takes her newly accustomed seat in the beanbag chair in the corner where she spent most of her time while Clarke was painting.

“So I wanted to talk to you about something.” Clarke says, closing the door behind her. She fishes for a paintbrush to toy with, standing stiffly with the tool in her hand.

“Clarke, Is everything okay?” Lexa's first response is immediate concern. The way her eyes soften with the ability to hold a thousand emotions at once causes Clarke to stumble momentarily on her own words.

“Yeah well no I mean yes…I umm, actually, I called my mom.” She says finally.

“Oh.” Lexa blinks, realizing the weighty importance of the conversation they were having. “And how did that go?” She asks carefully.

“It was a start,” Clarke sighs, recalling the strained push and pull of the hour long conversation she had with Abby. “It wasn't perfect by any means, but it was a start.”

“A start is always good.” Lexa nods, waiting for Clarke to elaborate further, should she feel comfortable. But instead her shoulders sag as she gazes off into the distance.

“I don’t even want to know what she’s thinking, or what she thinks of me now.” The blonde sighs dejectedly, running her hand over her face with a frustrated exhale. She starts pacing by the window, looking out over the street.

“Clarke,” she hears Lexa's voice, closer now. A warm heat falls upon her shoulder and she turns to find the brunette placing a supportive hand on her arm. “I think she still thinks highly of you.” The brunette encourages. “She just may not know how to go about telling you. You hurt her, but you were hurt too.” Emerald eyes hold her gaze with undying sincerity. “She will understand in time. You’re still her daughter and she still loves you.” She comforts.

Clarke feels her eyes well up at the brunette’s genuine tone. Lexa was so kind and willing to offer sympathy and advice when discussing her situation, yet Clarke had never heard the brunette mention any family of her own, aside from the occasional “you won't believe what Anya did” story.

“What about you?” She decides it's time to offer the brunette the same support. “We never talk about your parents.”

Lexa’s hand falls immediately as she takes a step back.

“Sorry.” Clarke immediately feels guilty, detecting the clear discomfort in the brunette’s body language. She's about to suggest that they switch subjects but Lexa holds up her hand, shaking her head before stepping back into her place before. She inhales slowly to collect herself, green eyes steady when they finally meet hers again.

“My parents passed away when Anya and I were just kids.” Lexa reveals, her voice sounds just as even as it always was.

“Shit.” Clarke gapes. “You must think I'm such a brat. I sound so selfish for…”

“You’re not selfish.” Lexa shakes her head with a sad smile. “You had someone that meant the world to you taken away from you unexpectedly.” The brunette states. “Unfairly.” She says even quieter.

Lexa was undeniably strong, yet sometimes, through the sultry facade, Clarke would see the cracks of hidden vulnerability. It made her heart ache for the brunette. She knew how irritating it was when people would offer their sympathy when her father passed. So many “sorry for your loss” and “he was a good man” comments that always seemed contrived with falsified authenticity. Instead, she ventures to take Lexa's wrist in her hand, finger tracing light patterns on the bone.

“Clarke?” Lexa squeaks out timidly. “What are you doing?”

“I'm proud of you. That's all.” Clarke says. And it's true. _So undoubtedly true._  

“I…” Lexa seems at a loss for words, but Clarke just offers a warm smile.

“We don't have to talk at all.” She says again, repeating the familiar words that instantly have Lexa relaxing in her hold.

“Will you paint for me?” Lexa requests after a moment.

“Of course.” Clarke nods. The first time she had worked on the portrait of Anya with Lexa present, she was a bundle of nerves, but slowly, that vulnerability morphed into a certain level of trust and she allowed the brunette to sit and watch her work. She wasn't observing her constantly, just an occasional glance or two every so often, but it was somehow comforting. Having someone else there, knowing that Lexa was always around.

And Clarke wishes that maybe, someday, Lexa would feel the same way.

\---

A few days later, Clarke’s wish is granted but not in the way that she had hoped. She had just gotten out of the shower after a long, exhausting day of sculpting a series of bust figures for Dante’s new project. Her body was sore and aching from bending over the work table, neck stiff, and hands cramped. Her arms were caked in dried clay and plaster, and chunks of it were clumped in her hair, causing the strands to stick together in the most unflattering fashion.

After an unnaturally long time under the scorching spray, Clarke climbs out of the shower, fingers wrinkled and pruned. She is just about to climb into bed to bling watch a season of mind-numbing television when she catches a glimpse of her phone indicating that she has one missed call and a voicemail from Lexa.

She presses play, taken aback by the lazy drawl in Lexa's voice as she speaks into the receiver.

“Hey! Come over. I have wine and no one’s here.” The brunette sing-songs before hanging up abruptly.

It’s very vague and somewhat out of character, but who is Clarke Griffin to object to a spending time with the gorgeous brunette?

_Sorry. I was in the shower. Do you still want me to come over? -C_

She sends a text back, already moving to get dressed.

Her phone buzzes almost immediately with a single word.

_Hurry. -L_

It's not until she gets to the brunette's door, finding it already unlocked, when the possibility that this was a booty call crosses her mind. She immediately starts panicking, wondering if she should have changed into something more appealing than just her skinny jeans, v-neck, and snapback. But before she can turn and run, she hears a crash coming from the kitchen and immediately follows the source of the sound.

The sight she sees is one she'll never forget, and hopes she'll never have to see again. Lexa lays with her head in her hands, blearily eyed as she grasps uncoordinated for the wine bottle, the first one already shattered onto the floor, obviously already been emptied earlier in the night. She rushes to the brunette's side, coaxing her away from the shards of glass with care.

“Clarke,” Lexa whimpers. “They're all gone.”

Her heart breaks when fresh tears track down the brunette's face.

“Gone. Gone. Gone.” Lexa drunkenly slurs, shaking the second wine bottle still clutched in her hand with each repetition of the word.

“Hey, Lexa.” Clarke urges, pulling the swaying girl to her feet. “I think maybe you’ve had enough.” Clarke suggests, taking the glass away from the brunette before she could cause herself any more harm. She leads her over to the kitchen table pulling out a chair. She gently pushes Lexa back until her knees hit the edge and she sits down.

“Stay here, Lexa.” Clarke instructs. “Can you do that for me, stay here?”

The brunette sniffs, nodding quietly as she wipes her tears with the back of her hand. She watches Clarke search the kitchen pantries and closets for a broom to sweep up the shattered glass, the blonde growing more frustrated when she comes up empty handed.

“Lexa, do you have an old towel or a t-shirt that I can use to wrap this stuff in before I throw it out?” She asks the intoxicated brunette. Lexa simply blinks before reaching for the hem of her shirt, lifting it with the intent to give Clarke the shirt off her back.

“Whoa!” Clarke rushes over to the girl, quickly pulling it down, hands accidentally brushing against the brunette's abs and Lexa lets out a small moan, causing Clarke’s eyes to widen.

_Fuck. Don't do that._

She grits her teeth, deciding it would be best to relocate the brunette to the couch and out of harm, turning on the television and placing the remote control in her lap. “Here, Lex.” She says before turning to make her way back to the kitchen.

“No!” The brunette cries, green eyes widen with confusion and panic.  She reaches for Clarke’s hand tugging her down. In her drunken stupor she pulls a little too hard and Clarke comes crashing down on top of her with a grunt.

The blonde quickly scrambles to her feet distancing herself.

“Please, Clarke.” Lexa begs, eyes watery and broken. “Please stay. Everyone always leaves me!” She sobs.

Clarke wonders what it's like for Lexa to always be so independent. No family to speak of, an ex-girlfriend who stupidly left her, and a sister who was about to move to another country.

Lexa continues to shake her head, whimpering becoming her only way of communicating, as if to ask that the blonde not walk away.

Clarke frowns at the devastating woman. “I'm here.” She promises. “I'm not leaving you.” Clarke says, taking a seat on the couch next to the brunette. Once she's seated, Lexa practically climbs into her lap, resting her head against Clarke's shoulder, small puffs of hot breath hitting her neck as she cries softly.

The blonde hesitates before wrapping her arms around the girl, holding her tightly. “Lexa, why are you crying? What's wrong?”

“Everything. I shouldn't.” Lexa hiccups her thoughts incoherently. “I can't. I'm _scared_.”

_Scared?_

“What are you afraid of?” Clarke asks, her palm pressed against the small of Lexa's back.

“If I love someone they leave. I can't love any more people.” The brunette says hopelessly, bottom lip trembling, just seconds away from crying more tears.

“Hey, you don't have to love any more people.” Clarke assures, hoping to prevent another round of tears from falling from brilliant emerald eyes. “No one is making you do that.”

Lexa lifts her head, grasping Clarke's face with both hands, eyes unfocused before she whispers, “But I want to.”

Clarke doesn't know how to respond to that, but luckily, Lexa just lets her head fall back onto Clarke's shoulder, hand bunching up the fabric at the bottom of Clarke's shirt, grounding her to the blonde. They don't speak and the brunette's eyelids grow heavy until they finally fall closed.

The artist sighs, humming quietly as she rubs at Lexa's back, trapped underneath her weight. She's just about to fall asleep herself when the door opens and Anya walks in.

“Hey Lex, I stopped by to get some…” she calls out, arms full of bags. She doesn't notice Clarke as she lets herself in. It's only after she situates them on the counter that she sees the pair. “What are you doing here?” She interrogates, taken aback.

“I don't know.” Clarke confesses honestly. “Lexa called me earlier and asked me to come over so I did. When I got here, she was already drunk and crying.”

“What did you do?” Anya frowns.

“Nothing.” Clarke holds her hands up in defense. Lexa whines slightly at the loss of body contact, which causes Clarke to blush in embarrassment.  “Ok. I mean. Not nothing. I've just been holding her. She was really upset. But now she's asleep.” She says stupidly. Anya continues to stare at her, and Clarke isn't sure if she's about to get murdered or not.

“I can leave so you can…” she tries to say; about to lift Lexa's off her lap. But Anya halts her, the next thing out of her mouth taking her by surprise.

“No.” the older sibling shakes her head. “You stay with her. She called you for a reason.”

“What do you mean?” Clarke asks dumbfounded.

“Did she tell you what day it is?” Anya asks. Clarke shakes her head.

“Interesting.” The blonde says cryptically. “Give me your phone.” She demands, holding out her hand as she approaches the two.

Clarke wiggles to retrieve the device from her back pocket, handing it over willingly with outstretched hands. Lexa clings tighter to her, burying her face into Clarke's hair as the shift in movement.

"She trusts you.” Anya notes, keeping an eye on her sister as she types something into Clarke's phone.

“Me?” Clarke asks. There's a faint buzz that comes from Anya’s purse before she hands the phone back to Clarke.

“In case she asks for me.” Anya says, eye softening at the sight of her sister, before locking with Clarke's. “But something tells me I won't be hearing from you.” She stalks to the kitchen to retrieve one of the bags. “These are some of her favorite foods.” Anya informs. She reaches over, brushing a strand of Lexa’s hair behind her ear. The brunette drunkenly bats at her sister's hand. It falls a moment later and she sighs.

“She's just trying to help.” Clarke says to the sleeping brunette, attempting to tuck the strand back in place. This time, Lexa lets her do it, humming slightly in her sleep.

“I'm clearly not needed anymore.” The older blonde says with a sad smile.

“Anya, I wasn’t…” she makes to protest but Anya cuts her off.

“Don't fuck it up this time.” The blonde says over her shoulder as she leaves the apartment, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips as she approaches the door. “We've only ever had each other. We take care of each other. Now I have Roan, too. But Lexa, well...” Anya pauses, chewing the inside of her cheek for a long time. Clarke is almost certain she’s going to end the conversation there, but the words finally spill from the tight line of her pressed lips.

“Maybe she could have you.” Anya says quietly.

Her hand hovers over the handle for a moment before she turns, offering a final word of advice. “She likes when you play with her hair.” She says before clicking the door shut behind her.

Clarke stares at the now closed door, trying to process what had just happened. What did Anya mean by what day it was? Why was Lexa so upset? What happened today? She has so many questions, but judging by the brunette's intoxicated state, there was no way she would be able to answer any of them. And Anya had been just as mysterious about it all. With a sigh, she decides it's best to get some food into the brunette's stomach before sending her off to bed.

“Lexa?” The blonde whispers, combing her fingers through the brunette's waves. “Lexa, let's eat something, okay?”

“Nooo!” Lexa whines incredulously as Clarke shifts her off her lap to gather the bag off the coffee table, digging through its contents to find something to soak up the alcohol in Lexa’s system.

After getting the girl to eat a sandwich and down a bottle of Gatorade, Lexa is in a slightly more sober state, though just barely.

“Come on,” Clarke urges, pulling the brunette to her feet. Lexa leans most of her weight against Clarke's body. “Let's get you to bed.” She suggests, leading the girl to the bedroom.

“No. No.” the brunette stumbles, grasping towards the bathroom door, almost causing the two to fall over. “We need to take our pills and count.” She points drunkenly at the medicine cabinet.

_Pills?_

“Ok. Hold on. Let me go see.” Clarke ushers Lexa down the hall, opening the cabinet to find a small prescription bottle for Alexandria Woods. To be taken for anxiety and minor depression.

Her eyes widen as she realizes Lexa was not the person she thought she was. She was more tragic, still human, and heartbreakingly lonely. The blonde herself had always been self-focused, but for the first time, she wants to focus on someone else. She wants happiness for Lexa and even more importantly m she wants to be the source of that happiness. The thought catches her by surprise. She temporarily shakes it from her mind though to tend to the brunette presently.

_Now is not the time, Griffin. Sort it out later._

Lexa waits expectantly, but Clarke knows that mixing medications with alcohol is not a good ideal. Forcing a smile, she shakes her head.

“No pills tonight, Lex.” She explains. “I’ll be your happy place.”

“I don't deserve to be happy.” The brunette frowns at her reflection, clenching her hands and slamming them once on the counter.

“Of course you do.” Clarke insists, meeting her gaze in the mirror. She reaches out to place her hand on Lexa’s wrist to calm her and prevent any further pounding of her fists. The brunette wavers for a moment.

She stares down at their hands for a long time, thoughts whirling in her head. Clarke waits for her to speak again. And when she does, it's meek and dejected. “I'm alive. It's not fair.”

“What do you mean?” Clarke asks, cerulean eyes patient and careful.

Green eyes stare back at her, hooded and turbulent. Suddenly, she spins on her heals, shouting as tears cascade down her cheeks, carving darkened canyons on tan skin. It's tragically beautiful, and leaves Clarke hypnotized, yet terrified.

“Costia deserved better!” Lexa sobs, body shaking with physical evidence of her emotional pain.

“What?” The blonde questions, now incredibly confused.

_Costia dumped her, idiotically. You’d have to be a real moron to leave someone like Lexa. Lexa was the type of girlfriend anyone would die for…_

Her stomach drops when she finally pieces it together. She had always thought that Lexa and Costia were just a really messy breakup that left Lexa scarred after she left. It hadn't crossed her mind that Costia had actually died. Suddenly, it all made sense: Lexa's insistence on the seat belt, her anxiety of driving, the strange moments when she would freeze up by something Clarke hadn't even realized was emotionally triggering. It must have been a car accident that brought their relationship to an untimely end.

Her heart plummets at the thought of Lexa having to go through something so traumatic. Lexa was so strong and put together all the time, despite all of her pain. Clarke wondered if it was a result of numbness or caution, but figured it was probably both. Suddenly, Anya's words carried that much more weight.

_“Maybe she could have you.”_

Clarke wraps the brunette in her arms, determined to take away her pain as Lexa immediately falls into her comfort, clinging to her shirt while Clarke leads her to the bedroom. 

“I survived.” The brunette whimpers after Clarke sits her on the sheets to dig through the dresser drawers for something to get Lexa changed into. “Just surviving…” she trails off.

“Life should be about more than just surviving,” Clarke says over her shoulder, hoping to maintain conversation to prevent the brunette from falling asleep before she gets changed. “'Don't you think we deserve better than that?” She says offhandedly.

Before she can process what happens, Lexa is launching herself at Clarke, clawing at the blonde’s clothing, trying to remove it.

“Hey!” Clarke gasps, tugging her shirt back down, leaning away from the brunette who was trying to kiss her neck. “Whoa. Stop!”

She never thought she'd be turning down a hook up from Lexa Woods, but she couldn't. Not like this.

“No, wait.” She catches the brunette's wrists in her hands, ducking to meet her eyes, searching.

“You said it.” Lexa's eyes are wild. “You said it just like Costia.”

“I'm sorry.” Clarke apologizes, unsure of what else to do. Lexa frees herself from Clarke grasp, crawling under the sheets.

“You're not Costia.” She blinks as if this revelation is completely new to her.

“No,” Clarke frowns sadly, finally locating a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. “I'm not Costia.” She holds out the clothing for the brunette. She takes them carefully, studying the folded articles with fascination.

“But, you're Clarke.” Lexa deduces, managing to put on the t-shirt without much struggle. It's the shorts that cause her the most trouble and she eventually gives up, tossing them onto the floor.

_Keep it PG, Griffin._

“I am Clarke, yes.” The blonde confirms, attempting to distract herself.  “Can you get under the sheets for me?” The artist requests, pulling back the covers.

“Okay.” The brunette abides, but it takes her another minute to actually move, in which Clarke’s willpower is tested for 60 excruciatingly long seconds as she does her best not to ogle at the brunette’s exposed legs.

When Lexa finally gets situated, she lets out a sigh of relief.

“You’re not Costia.” The brunette repeats. “But... Clarke is good too.” She drunkenly murmurs, snuggling her cheek into the pillow.

Clarke does her best to ignore the way her words tug at something in her chest.

“Go to sleep, Lexa.” She instructs. “We can talk about this in the morning.”

“Sleep here.” The brunette insists, holding the comforter in the air.

“I don’t know if…”

“You promised you would stay.” Lexa pleads.

“I…” Clarke sighs. “Okay.”

Thankfully, Lexa doesn’t put up much more of a fight, any further protest seemingly leaving her mind for the rest of the night. She moves a trashcan to the bedside, just in case, before finally allowing sleep to take her for a few brief hours.


	16. Let Go or Let In?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two come to their own realizations, and they're both terrified.

Lexa awakens halfway through the night with a throbbing headache, and a hand carding through her hair. She looks down at herself, feeling Clarke’s warm body pressed against her aching frame, secure and comforting. Clarke’s eyes are closed as she sleepily runs her fingers through Lexa’s waves. The brunette tries to muster up the strength to separate herself from the girl, to excuse her and allow Clarke to go home, but finds her entire body weighed down, her bones turned to lead and her nerves unable to register anything. Soon, she flutters her eyes shut again and gives in to the feeling of the blonde’s touch.

The next time she opens her eyes, it’s morning; bright and blinding morning. Spotty memories of the night before come flashing back to her.

The day had snuck up on her. It wasn’t until she was signing paperwork for the studio’s monthly utility bill that she realized that the date matched the password on her phone. Her stomach had churched uneasily and she spent several minutes hovering over the sink before finally finding the strength to stand on her own two feet again. Even still, she had immediately fallen into a somber mood, which quickly spiraled into a deeper loneliness. No family. No lover. Anya was getting married, leaving her, everyone was _leaving._ And as much as she wanted her sister’s happiness, she can’t help but wonder if happiness was ever in the cards for herself.

She clenches her fist, willing herself to ward away the negative emotions, only to find that it’s pressed flush against something soft. Clenching it again, confused, she hears a groan, or rather, an incredibly husky moan. Her eyes fly open, burning her retinas in the light. When her pupils adjust to the searing sun with a painful effort, she looks down to find Clarke staring back at her, blue eyes wide and anxious. Lexa looks down at her hand, specifically the one she had clenched in a fist, realizing that the softness was in fact the blonde’s chest.

She had been _groping_ Clarke in her sleep. Startled and highly embarrassed, she attempts to pulls away, cheeks aflame. The only problem is that she can’t. Her bare leg is wedged between Clarke’s and as she pulls away, the blonde awakens with yawn of her own. The brunette, frozen in fear barely manages to remove her hand as she’s hit with an ocean of blue, bursting from behind thick lashes.

“I…I… Oh my god, Clarke.” She stutters, wiping the image of a serenely sleeping Clarke from her mind. “I am _so_ sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry. ” She apologizes profusely. She shoots herself from the bed, sitting up all too fast, her hands quickly flying to grasp at her head in a futile attempt to keep the room from spinning, legs tangled clumsily in the sheets. They pull away from the blonde as she does and Clarke is forced to follow with a confused scrunch of her brow. If Lexa wasn’t so panicked at the moment, she would have found the little crease in her forehead and the tiny purse of her lips endearing. But she’s still aware of the fabric brushing against her bare legs. She surveys her own appearance, head throbbing as she tries to recall the events of the night. Why was she in her underwear?

“Easy there.” Clarke follows, sitting up as well as she inches towards her, placing her hand over Lexa’s forearm.  “You had a lot to drink last night.”

Lexa nods slowly, willing herself to make eye contact with the blonde, trying to collect her bearings and last shred of dignity, despite the bottom half of her body being bare.

“We didn’t do anything.” Clarke seems to read her mind. “I just held you.” She enlightens, voice genuine and sympathetic. “And played with your hair a little.” She blushes. “Your pants are over there.” She gestures to the floor. “You didn’t want to put anything else on. And I didn’t want to force you while you were drunk.”

Lexa relaxes slightly, sighing while she watches in a daze Clarke nudge the trashcan by her feet towards her.

“Just in case.” The blonde smiles gently. The gesture isn’t mocking but rather, full of compassion and a sort of softness that Lexa was starting to see more and more from the blonde. It did funny things to her and she wasn’t sure if she knew how to handle it.

“Thanks.” Lexa manages to mutter, the warmth starting to bloom in her chest.

They sit in silence for a moment. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, per say, but there is definitely still much to be said and it hangs over them, glaringly. She tries to put some space between them, but as she grips at the bed sheets, trying to shift, her insides churns.

She tries to steady her stomach, her sense of balance still not quite returned yet. She can feel Clarke watching her, bottom lip pulled between her teeth, debating whether or not to assist her at the risk of potentially hurting her pride.

“I’ll be back.” The blonde finally says, breaking the silence. She pushes herself up, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed. It takes a moment for Lexa to actually take her in, noticing that Clarke is still dressed in her typical day clothes. Lexa realizes that Clarke had no intentions to stay over. And yet…

 _Stay_. She suddenly remembers pleading with the girl.

As she makes her way to the dresser, grabbing something quick to change into, hazy memories start to return to her; Clarke holding her, rocking her throughout the night, humming softly to her. She thought she had heard Anya’s voice last night as well, but doesn’t recall seeing her. Surely, if Anya had come over, her sister would have stayed, right? She surveys the room and peeks around the corner. Anya was nowhere in sight. It was just herself and Clarke in the studio apartment.

The task of padding around the apartment only makes her head throb more, so she settles herself back onto the mattress, pillow propped against the small of her back as she rests carefully against the backboard.

Just as her eyes start to flutter closed again, the wooden floorboard lets out a small squeak, and Lexa looks up to find Clarke in the doorway, hair disheveled from sleep, one sock adorably slipping off her foot as she carries a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of pain killers in the other. Something about it sends Lexa’s stomach plummeting, and not from the alcohol.

“I hope you don’t mind, I went looking through your cabinets.” The blonde apologizes, handing the remedy over. Lexa shakes her head, the action rattling her brain a little too hard. Despite the pain, she can’t help but be incredibly greatful, as it’s quite the contrary from what Clarke believes.

The blonde returns to her side as she takes a seat next to her on the bed while Lexa downs the pills, gulping every last drop of water before speaking. Clarke holds out her hand, palm open and for a moment Lexa almost laces her fingers between the blonde’s catching herself at the last minute before realizing Clarke was offering to take the glass from her. She turns to clear her throat, hoping that the blush on her face goes unnoticed by the blonde as she surrenders the cup.

When Clarke places it on the nightstand with a soft clink, careful not to make too much noise or further Lexa’s headache, Lexa finally speaks.

“I’m sorry for my behavior last night. I don’t remember if I was…” She bites her lip, voice weary. “If I was embarrassing. And if I did anything…”

“Hey,” Clarke cuts her off, placing a hand on her knee. “You’re fine. I’m here for you.” She says, blue eyes shining brightly.

Lexa feels her skin scorching under the blonde’s palm. Maybe she was still a little drunk; she furrows a brow, confused by her own body’s reaction before shifting away, but not before catching the way Clarke’s expression falls for the most miniscule second. She quickly feigns a smile, and if Lexa hadn’t been watching her, she probably would have missed it. When Clarke speaks again, her tone is tender when she continues.

“Last night,” Clarke begins carefully. “You asked me to come over.” The blonde divulges. “Do you remember?”

Lexa pauses for a moment. She recalls wanting to be with someone; wanting to be able to love again. She remembers the yearning in her chest to just be close to somebody, to feel safe and happy instead of sad and lonely.

She had chosen _Clarke_.

Lexa nods slowly, feeling ashamed. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position. It was…”

“No.” Clarke shakes her head, fingers slipping around her wrist, the comforting gesture immediately calming her. “I’m glad you did.” She says.

Lexa flexes her jaw. “I’m usually not like that. It’s just…” She chokes on the words.

She can feel Clarke’s eyes on her, the warm, genuine glow of the cerulean orbs studying her. “Hey,” The blonde coos gently. “I’m not going to make you talk about anything you don’t want to.” She assures. “I just wanted to say _thank you_.”

“What?” Lexa turns, tilting her head slightly as her eyes narrow in confusion. “Why?”

“Because you let me in.” The blonde says, expression softening. “I don’t know all the details and you don’t have to tell me them if you don’t want to. If you’re not comfortable or you don’t…” She pauses. “Don’t trust me fully yet.”

Lexa hates the way the words make her own heart constrict.

“But I’m here.” Clarke assures. “If you want to. I’d be honored to listen to anything you want to share.” She says with genuine eyes and a soft brush of her thumb across Lexa’s wrist.

Her sincerity is overwhelming and Lexa can no longer resist the urge to throw her arms around the blonde. She feels Clarke tense for a second, but it quickly disappears when she feels the artist encircle her arms around her waist. She burrows her face into the blonde’s neck, whispering out an honest ‘thank you.’

The embrace lingers just a bit too long to be considered just friendly, and the brunette pulls away, a heat creeping into her cheeks. She can see the rosy flush of Clarke’s skin as well as they break apart.

“I was just…”

“Sorry, I…”

They both say at the same time, blushing even harder.

“Sorry, you…”

“No, you go…”

The two speak over one another a second time, bashful of their clumsy conversation. She feels young again, giggling like a giddy school girls.

Clarke places her left hand over her own mouth, waving her right in a circular motion, signaling for Lexa to go ahead.

The brunette smiles at the blonde’s theatrical behavior, chuckling at her antics before falling serious once again. Her expression straightens as Clarke waits expectantly, blue eyes patient and understanding. Pushing through her headache, Lexa prepares herself to speak, the words thick on her tongue.

“Yesterday was Costia’s birthday.” She explains, the name of her former lover weighing her heart. “She would have been twenty seven today.”

Clarke simply nods, allow Lexa a moment to collect herself.

“We met when we were still in college. She was two years older than me.” She goes on to explain, the aching in her chest making it harder to discuss the bittersweet memories. “Costia was always so light and sweet. She was the epitome of the girl next door.” Lexa recalls fondly.

Clarke offers her a sad smile as she continues to reminisce. Lexa finds her attention drawn to the downward curl of her lips and the small beauty mark that sits above it. She blinks away the distraction from her head, trying to properly pay tribute to the girl who once was her world. She diverts her gaze out the window instead, eyes far off from Clarke’s patiently attentive figure.

“She was so pure and kind.” She lets out a single puff of air through her nose, it’s a laugh, but a sad one, full of yearning and loss. “Almost too kind.” She tacks on. Costia had always been the gentler of the two. While Lexa could be sassy and sarcastic, and sometimes downright cold, Costia was sweet and gentle. She took Lexa’s stoic persona and saw right passed it, pouring nothing but patience and affection into her.

I’ll be turning twenty five this year.” Lexa says despondently.  “Older than she ever made it to be.” Her voice cracks and she swallows thickly.

She can see Clarke doing the calculations in her head while she shifts closer, the side of her hand grazing against Lexa’s clammy one.

“Two, almost three years.” Lexa says as her expression twinges with frustration and longing. “I know, I should be able to move on.”

Clarke immediately stops her from continuing, placing a hand on her shoulder. “That’s an impossible task. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been.” She shakes her head ardently.  

“It will _always_ hurt.” The blonde justifies. “My dad died years ago, but I still miss him; some days more than others. But I still miss him. _Every. Single. Day_.” She emphasizes. “It’s usually just a dull ache, but it keeps his memory alive.”

The brunette can relate all too well.  

“It’s haunting.” The yoga instructor agrees, but Clarke shakes her head again.

“It doesn’t have to be a memory that burdens you.” Clarke says with the smallest twitch of her lips. It fills Lexa with a sort of warmness that she immediately tries to subdue.

“Love is weakness.” Lexa disagrees.

Clarke pauses, as a challenging tension falls over them. She ducks her gaze to seek out Lexa’s green eyes, the artist’s own blue eyes searching hers. There’s so much tenderness in them that Lexa has to tear her gaze away.

“Do you really believe that?” The blonde finally asks quietly.

_Does she?_

Something bubbles in her stomach, tugging at her chest rendering her speechless and unable to reply, a lump forming in her throat. She feels herself gravitating towards the blonde.

She slowly lifts her gaze as their eyes connect again, much more shyly this time. Something inside her threatens to burst as she sees Clarke leaning in as well. She fights it off, retracting back.

“Do you want to get breakfast?” Lexa asks, swallowing it down and standing abruptly.

“Oh.” The blonde blinks, clearly taken aback from the quick change in subject. “Uhh, sure.” She nods.

They ready themselves as best as they can before heading out the door. She treats Clarke to breakfast at her and Anya’s usual spot at the diner before pardoning herself, stating that she needs to get ready to teach yoga shortly.

She’s lying. The blonde knows it too. She’d been taking Lexa to and from classes long enough to know the truth. But luckily, Clarke doesn’t say anything about the blatantly fabricated excuse. In a sense, Lexa feels bad, but the bigger part of her, the head over heart part of her desperately needs time to think; to process it herself.

The two part ways with a strained, yet comforting hug and Lexa hates the way she chases after the heat of Clarke’s arms.

\---

Instead of heading back to her apartment after their brief meal at the diner, Lexa wanders around the city aimlessly until she finds herself in front of an all too familiar building in the center of downtown DC.   

Three years and things still seem the same; from the reserved parking spots to the landscaped shrubbery. There’s a fountain in the center of the lawn, a small arrangement of square trimmed shrubs and a lined walkway with solar lamps and carefully crafted granite stones. The automatic doors slide in the entryway, triggered by the motion sensors that she knows are hidden behind the two large abstract statuettes on either side of the doorway.  

She doesn’t go inside, but pauses outside the entrance. She remembers it all anyway; the tile floors with grey marble specks that echoed when her heels hit the ground. Her pencil skirts restricted her steps as she strutted through the building, taking the elevator up to the fifth floor where her office was located. The wooden table, the darkened chestnut finish, brass desk lamp, and matching book case with shelves full of certificates, achievement awards, and books on writing legal documentation in modern business law. She remembers it all so vividly. 

But nothing stands out more in her mind than the few minutes after leaving the office. The memory of screeching tires and the crush of metal causes her knees to go weak and footing to falter. She’s certain the fall is going to cause her a nasty scar, but before she can register what happens, a hand reaches out to steady her, grasping her elbow firmly. She looks up to meet a pair of brown eyes, just as astonished as her own.

“Lexa?” Indra’s voice is low and strong, despite the surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” She doesn’t really know, to be honest. Something deep inside her just needed to come. She snaps her mouth shut instead. The woman guides her to the fountain spouting from the center of the expansive lawn, both women sitting on the ledge.

She gives her a grateful smile before placing both hands on the sides of her thighs, gripping the edge of the concrete while Indra steadies her balance, crossing one leg over the other, fingers laced together as her hands rest in her lap.

Her former employer arches a brow. “You look different.” She comments vaguely.

“Three years will do that to you.” Is all she manages to reply back, her fingertips pressed into the stone surface beneath her.

“Two years and ten months, actually.” Indra corrects, poignant and staunch as always.

“You…” Lexa gulps. “You still remember?”

The woman nods. There’s a silence that falls between them. They used to sit in silences like this all the time when they were both working late. Indra would be typing away in her office with Lexa in her cubical just outside. After her promotion, their offices were next door. Though Indra’s was typically closed during the day due to the vast amount of conference calls she had to take, after hours was a different story. She had always left the door open, allowing Lexa to overhear any of the late night phone calls she had to host with their corporate headquarters due to the time difference. Indra was driving and sharp, her dialogue shorts and concise.

But something about her now looks different.  Indra is still dressed in her traditional black suit, pressed crisp with a white button-up shirt tucked neatly into her skirt. Her uniform look remains the same, but Lexa can see the wear in her features, the wrinkles and the gray strands peeking out from her hair. She can see the way they’ve both changed as they silently study one another.

“You were my best employee.” Indra finally speaks up, her voice unwavering.

“What?” Lexa’s eyes widen at the confession. She knew that Indra had expected her to move up in the company, but she was so young back then. She never thought that she would have that much of an influence.

“You were always so resilient.” The woman praises.  “I’ll admit, I was incredibly tough on you. But that was only because I knew how ambitious you were, how strong you were. You could take it.” She notes.

Lexa frowns at the compliment. If she only knew how untrue that statement was now.

Something about the woman softens.

“I thought a lot about you after you quit.” Indra admits. “It couldn’t have been easy to overcome something so…” She lingers for a moment. “ _Drastic_.” She says delicately. Lexa does her best to ward off tears in her eyes threatening to spill over.

“I always wondered if the warrior-like attitude in you would just push through it, block it out the way you were always able to when you had a huge project you were working on.” The woman offers a bittersweet smile. “Or if you’d let yourself grieve.”

The brunette swallows hard, jaw tense at the woman’s words. “The latter.” She croaks.

Indra nods curtly. “Necessary.”

Somehow, the singular word relaxes her.

“I wish you wouldn’t have quit.” Her previous boss sighed. “But I understand why you had to.” Her dark eyes scan over her, wisdom flashing behind them.

“I can tell that you’re better now.” She acknowledges. “I’m happy for you.”

For a moment, Lexa has to think. _Happiness_ despite all of the things happening in her life? The changes? The stress?

But then pearly white teeth cross her mind. Sweet lips and a raspy laugh. The teasing banter of late night text conversations and the smell of aerosol cans filled with acrylic paint setter. She can’t help the smile that slowly rises on her face.

“I have to thank Cl-“ she catches herself before the words fall out. Was she really equating Clarke to her newfound happiness?

“Healing is a good thing. Moving on doesn’t make you weak.” Indra seems to read her. Despite being a strict manager, there was always something maternal about the way she spoke to Lexa. She had missed this. Lexa lets the words set as the spring breeze floats around them, the only sound between the two coming from the bubbling fountain behind them.

After a few minutes of easy silence, the woman’s phone starts to ring and she frowns apologetically before glancing at her screen.

“It’s our corporate  headquarters. I can’t…”

“It’s okay.” Lexa smiles, shooing her off with a brush of her hand. “Thank you for taking a second to chat with me.” She says genuinely. “It was great seeing you too.”

“It really was, Woods.” The woman nods. “It really was.”

Indra stands slowly before clasping her hand on her shoulder, offering a squeeze before stalking back into the building, head held high. Lexa faintly catches a “Indra Oaks, speaking” as the automatic doors close behind her.

She leaves the facility feeling a strange sense of relief. She had let go of something just then, she just didn’t know what it was.

\---

Across town, Clarke had returned to her apartment, exhausted and confused. Octavia had taken one look at her appearance and immediately ushered her to the couch, placing a steaming mug of coffee in her hand and a pillow in her lap.

Clarke had curled onto the cushion, ankles crossed as her forearms rested easily on the pillow’s plush surface, the warmth of the cup pressing against her palms as she explained the events of the night before, leaving out the details regarding the pills she had stumbled upon in Lexa’s medicine cabinet.

“I just don’t get why she would lie about it.” She sighs dejectedly. “I’ve taken her to yoga for two weeks, and we see each other practically every day.”

“You _do_ see each other every day.” Octavia adds before taking in her roommate’s dejected expression. “Sorry. Not helping.” She shakes her head. “Continue.”

“It just doesn’t make sense.” Clarke chews her lip. “I know she doesn’t have to teach today.”

“Maybe she was embarrassed.” Octavia offers with a small shrug.

“Well, I know she was. But I thought we were getting passed all of that.” Clarke frowns. “Even Anya said that she trusted me. And that’s huge. I mean, come on. It’s _Anya.”_ She emphasizes with an exasperated groan.

“I know.” Her roommate agrees. “That _is_ a pretty big deal.”

“But I just don’t understand why she ran after she just started opening up.” Clarke sighs. “Did I do something wrong? Did I push her?”

“I wouldn’t say that. I really don’t think you did anything wrong. You comforted her.” The brunette acknowledges. “It was the right thing to do.”

“Then why doesn’t this feel right?” Clarke gestures to an imaginary space between herself, practically spilling the coffee on her lap. Octavia reaches out just in time to steady the mug, taking it from her grasp as she worries her lip anxiously.

“Maybe…” Octavia shakes her head, placing the mug on the coffee table. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to say.”

“Say it anyway.” The blonde pleads, desperate for some sort of advice from her best friend.

“Maybe…” It comes out almost like a whisper. “You can’t save everyone.”

The words hit her straight through the heart. But instead of causing the usual pain, it brings about a new flush of emotions, a driving, burning sense that’s set aflame deep in her chest.

“I’m not trying to save her, O.” Clarke says with determination. Lexa didn’t need to be saved. She needed, well… something _sweeter._ Something to make her smile on the days when she felt lonely. Something to keep her warm and safe when her panic attacks arose. A reason to wake up in the morning and smile. A _someone_.

“I’m trying to love her.” The blonde blurts before she can stop herself. Both roommates’ eyes widen at the same time at the revelation.

“Holy shit, did you just…?” Octavia gapes.

“I didn’t mean to…” Clarke’s voice cracks.

_But you did, Griffin. And you know it._

“Fuck.” Octavia says. “Okay. I see the problem now.”

An uneasy feeling churns in the base of her stomach.

She had seriously fallen for Lexa Woods. She wanted her, and not in a sexual way. In a deeper, completely altruistic way. And Lexa had _ran._

Her shoulders slump at the feeling of defeat.

“Clarkey,” The brunette softens, reading her conflicted expression. “It’s okay.” She consoles. “We’ll figure this out.” She encourages.

Clarke simply nods, reaching out and taking a sip of her coffee. Even with the sugar Octavia had added, it still tastes somewhat bitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. We have a national meeting at the end of this month and I've been swamped at work. How's the pace? They're getting closer.


	17. To Which It Blooms and Grows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone seems to know that Clexa needs to get together. But they've got to do this on their own time. Their own pace. Flirting, shy, stupid, gentle flirting.

After her run-in with her past, Lexa needs familiarity, something to ground her. She makes her way downtown. She knocks twice, fiddling with her hands as she waits for the door to swing open, eyes falling to the familiar blonde.

“Hey,” Her sister observing her carefully, something on the tip of her tongue that she refuses to say out loud, though Lexa can feel her eyes trained on her. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Oh? Why?” She inquires with uncertainty in her voice.

Instead of answering her question, her sister responds back with one of her own.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be over at Clarke’s.” Anya tugs her inside regardless, wordlessly making them both a cup of tea. Lexa settles at the island, observing the open-concept apartment. In the corner of the living area, piles of cardboard boxes have started to gradually accumulate. What used to make her stomach twist in knots now filled her with jittery anticipation. At first, she wasn’t sure if she liked the feeling, but it was getting better. She couldn’t deny that despite it all, things were becoming easier.

Anya follows her line of sight, taking one last sip of her drink before setting down her mug. It clinks against the granite, the only sound between the two amongst their silence. She stares at the moving supplies and few containers already packed to the brim with clothing and books.

“How’s that coming along? Need some help?” The brunette says half-heartedly. There are a thousand other thoughts whirling around in her head, rattling her brain. But this is the only one she dares to say out loud at the moment.

“I know you’re not here to help me pack, Lex.” Her sister observes.

Lexa sighs. So maybe she couldn’t avoid the topic on her mind. The bright, blinding, gold-lit topic.

“What’s up?” Anya tries again, fingertips drumming against the side of her mug, hand hooked under the handle.

“I can’t spend some time with my beautiful big sister? My favorite blonde in the whole wide world?” She tries to deflect nervously with a hint of whatever cynicism she can muster up at the time. It comes out a bit too anxious and Anya sees right through her act.

“Sarcasm is not appreciated.” The blonde rolls her eyes. “Besides, I’m not your favorite blonde.” She says offhandedly.

Lexa knows what she’s insinuating, hoping that Anya drops the subject. But her sister had never been one to just back down when she wanted something. Lexa quickly drops her gaze to her cup, swirling the steaming liquid, watching it funnel into a spiral before evening out again.

Brown eyes are still on her. She can feel them. But she’s not sure if she’s ready to admit the words out loud, no matter how blaring they seem in her chest.

“Clarke is your new favorite blonde.” Her sister says with a devilish expression, something caught between a scowl, smirk, and glimmering endearment.

It makes Lexa’s cheeks immediately flush red. “We’re just friends.” She tries to object, hiding her blush behind her cup as she takes a drink, an exaggeratedly long drink.

“Right.” Anya snorts. “That’s why you called her last night instead of me.”

 _That_ catches her attention.

“You _were_ there?” Lexa sputters, choking slightly on her drink. Her theory had been correct. But then, that means Anya willingly left her with Clarke.

Her sister observes her with an amused look. “Wow, forgetting me already?” She scoffs. “I haven’t moved _yet_ , Lexa.” 

“I…” She goes to object, but Anya holds a hand up to halt her, cracking the slightest tilt of smile between her pressed lips.

“You even _shooed_ me away.” She recalls, rolling her eyes. She then proceeds to mimic what Lexa assumes were her hand gestures from the previous night, swatting at the air with a chuckle. Except, it isn’t just a chuckle. It’s a laugh. A genuine, _real_ laugh. And for a moment, Lexa is stunned speechless, suddenly feeling as though her sister was three years younger, before the entire ordeal. And they were just sitting in the kitchen making breakfast after a long night out at the Arkade.

Her eyes widen when the realization dawns over her. Anya had come over yet she had chosen _Clarke_. Her heart had spoken for her head, or rather, _over_ her head.

Anya quickly senses her surprise, calming herself before speaking.

“Lex,” She schools her expression back to a serious one, and Lexa immediately misses the brightness of Anya’s smile. But it quickly returns to something wedged between amusement and neutrality. Lexa isn’t sure where this good mood is coming from, but she’s not going to be the one to stand in the way of it.

“I’m going to be straight with you for a second.” She pauses. “And yes, I’m completely aware that you are gay and that sentence was completely ironic.” She rolls her eyes playfully.

Lexa glares, poking her tongue out as Anya continues, completely unaffected by her childish response.

 “I’m not your first choice anymore, Lex.” Anya says with a pause, brown eyes probing Lexa’s for something that the brunette can’t identify.

Suddenly, Lexa feels a blend of guilty and self-conscious. She forces her body to sit a little taller, despite worrying a lip. Her sister simply offers her a gently outstretched hand, and they link fingers across the countertop.

“I’m not your number one and I haven’t been for a while.” The older girl continues, softer this time.

Lexa itches to say something to console her sister, but Anya reads her all too easily, running her thumb over Lexa’s knuckles comfortingly.

“I’m not saying it in a bad way, believe it or not.” Anya dismisses. “I didn’t like her at first, and I’m still not 100% about her, but I trust you.” She pauses, eyes boring into Lexa’s latching on in a deep hold. “And _you_ trust her. So…” Her voice tapers off with a hint of sadness. 

“Anya…” Lexa tries to assuage. “I just didn’t want to burden you.”

Her sister glares at her choice of words. “You’re not a burden.” Anya replies immediately.

“Right.” Lexa gives her hand a grateful squeeze. Anya doesn’t miss a beat and reciprocates the gesture.

A part of her wants to prove to her sister that she is still her go-to person, her number one. But another part of her, the distressed and conflicted part of her, feels the need to be wrapped up and comforted yearns for blue eyes and warm arms covered in acrylic paint. Things were changing all around her, and the place she found her stability was now becoming a beanbag in the corner of an art studio, surrounded by canvas lined walls. 

She shakes the thoughts from her head, refocusing her attention to the conversation at hand.

“I want you to be able to focus on your future.” The brunette says, fighting with her inner self.

It’s true, but not the whole truth.

“You’re moving with Roan and I have to be independent.” She says supportively, feigning a confident smile, but Anya isn’t fooled.

“And _your_ future?” The older sibling challenges with narrowed eyes, and Lexa knows she doesn’t believe her “truth” one bit.

“I’m okay.” Lexa says quietly. “I don’t mind being alone.” She mollifies, but something about the words leaves an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

Again, her sister sees through the walls she’s trying so desperately to cling to, although deep down, she knows they’ve already crumpled into ruins. Truthfully, they had started lowering a while ago.

“But you don’t _have_ to be.” Anya says, cocking her head to the side, an eyebrow raised knowingly. “You don’t want to be. I _know_ you don’t.”

“What do you mean?” Lexa makes a half-hearted effort to play dumb and avoid the subject, but the heat in her cheeks blows her cover. As much as she tries to run from her feelings, Lexa knows this is a race of the heart, and it’s becoming evidently clear that Clarke Griffin is going to become the winner.

“ _You know.”_ Anya quips.

Lexa swallows, unable to deny it any longer. Her shoulders fall as her sister proceeds with her all-too-accurate observation.

“There’s another blonde in your life.” She repeats sardonically, challenging her lightly. “She’s the one you spend every day with.” She says, pausing to gage Lexa’s reaction, or rather attempt to hide any hint of a reaction.

“You know what I’m getting at, right?” She probes.

Lexa fidgets with a nod, but the words never break through the barrier of her parted lips.

“You have feelings for her.” Her sister answers for her.

Her heart pounds in response to hearing the words out loud.

“You have feelings for Clarke Griffin.” Anya reiterates directly, and Lexa’s breath hitches. She’s positively sure that Anya hears the catch of breath as well, but spares her from further embarrassment.

“You’re…” Chestnut eyes scan hers thoughtfully. “Scared.” Anya finishes. “Not of getting hurt, but because you’re afraid that what happened to Costia might happen to Clarke.” She concludes with deadly accuracy.

“I’m not…” She doesn’t know how to object. She _can’t_.

“Look, Lex.” Her sister levels with a shrug. “You need to stop saying things you think I want to hear. You’re trying to hard to make everyone else happy and get their approval, but honestly, I _am_ happy.” She says earnestly, thumb fiddling to twist her engagement ring around her finger.

“I just want _you_ to be happy. With whatever and whoever brings you that happiness.” She ducks her head to meet Lexa’s with sincerity. “I know Clarke makes you happy, as weird and stupid as she can be.” Anya says with an eye roll scoffing playfully to ensure that Lexa knows she’s speaking jokingly.

“But, Alexandria, you’re being stupid too.” She points out with her best attempt at a stern expression. “You’re running away and hiding because you don’t want to take a chance or you’re afraid to offend me or hurt someone’s feelings.”

She can’t find it in her heart to defend herself because again, Anya knows her much too well.

“And it’s just going to result in you hurting _yourself_ in the end.” Her sister reasons. “And I don’t want to see you do that.” She coaxes kindly. “I’m not saying she’s perfect, because trust me, I can find about a billion things I’d like to change about her.”

Lexa frowns.

“Okay, maybe just a dozen things.” Anya chuckles with a devious smirk before shifting to a staid expression yet again. “But you obviously see something in her. And she sees something in you. Don’t deny yourself from that _something_ by complicating it more than it needs to be. Our lives are already complicated enough.” She encourages, nodding her head towards the stack of boxes in the corner. The two share a bittersweet smile, grateful to still have each other, despite the hardships they’ve endured.

“Do you want some help?” Lexa offers.

“Considering how I just helped you,” Anya contests, referring to the sisterly advice she had just given. “I’d say you owe me.” She says with knowing tilt of her lips.

Green eyes roll to the back of her head with feigned annoyance before she finishes up her tea, hopping off the barstool to grab the packing tape.

Time to get a move on.

\---

“Hey!” She blinks, slight astonishment slipping through her tone. To be fair, she hadn’t heard from Lexa in almost two days. It didn’t seem like a lot, but every little thing reminded her of the yoga instructor and her fingers were just itching to dial her number, or take a picture and shoot it off to the brunette in a text message. They had gone from seeing one another daily, texting dozens of messages per day, to radio silence. It had practically driven her mad. But Clarke had taken Octavia’s advice, urging her not to be rash and give the brunette space, as difficult as it may have been.

But now, Lexa is standing in her doorway, breathtaking as ever. Her brown hair was pulled into a loose fishtail braid over her shoulder, hanging freely with small baby hairs coming undone near the crown of her head. Her makeup was simple, winged eye-liner drawing direct attention to her emerald eyes. When her focus falls to the brunette’s plump lips and the adorable little speck of a mole on the top left side, Clarke finally tears her gaze away.

“Uhh, to what do I owe this pleasure?” She forces herself to focus, speaking with the utmost formality.

_Really, Griffin? ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?!’ Can you learn to talk like a normal person in front of your crush for once? What are you, 13 again?_

“Uhh,” She tries again. “What’s up?” She opens the door for the brunette to step inside. “Do you want to come inside?”

_Much better._

Lexa fidgets in the doorway, green eyes trailing her figure, taking in her appearance. Clarke feels an embarrassing burn in her cheeks at her paint-stained limbs, crossing her arms self-consciously with a cheeky grin as she attempts to cover up her messy state. She picks at the flakes of dried acrylic she feels caked right above her chest. The scratching action irritates the surface and causes her skin to turn pink.

When she looks back up, Lexa’s gaze quickly darts away from where it had been focused on her movement. She rocks back on her heels and fiddles with her fingers. “Actually, I was wondering if you were free right now.” Lexa informs.

“Umm, I’m covered in paint.” She says stupidly, but Lexa already knew that.

The slight uptick of the brunette’s soft lips causes a cheeky grin to escape across her own.

“Obviously.” She adds for good measure.

“You look fine, Clarke.” Lexa assures. “Great, actually.” She mutters, blush creeping across her face. It’s spoken shyly, as if she almost hadn’t meant to speak the words out loud.

“I mean…” The brunette hesitates. “I kind of like it.” She shrugs. “It’s very… you.”

“It’s very… me?” Clarke repeats skeptically.

“Yes.” Lexa bites her lip and that’s when it finally clicks. Lexa is _nervous_.

“Okay.” Clarke blushes. “Let me just grab my shoes and we can go.”

She manages to find a pair of Chuck Taylors, slipping them on without having to unlace them.

“Alright. I’m ready if you are.”

“Wait.” Lexa holds out a hand, maneuvering around her back towards the direction of Clarke’s room. Clarke catches a whiff of her perfume as she passes and her knees momentarily go weak.

Before the blonde has time to even collection herself, let alone question the brunette’s actions, Lexa returns with Jake’s hat in her hands.

“There we go.” She smiles fondly, gently placing it on her wavy blonde curls with nimble fingers.

Clarke does her best to calm to accelerating pace of her heartbeat, but fails miserably.

“Uhh,” She clears her throat. “So where are we off to?” She inquires as she hustles after the brunette who walks off with a sway of her hips. If Lexa picks up on her stutter or notices the blush in her cheeks, she doesn’t say anything. Sliding into the passenger seat, she clicks the buckle and the brunette throws the car into reverse, backing the vehicle out of the apartment complex lot.

“I have a few wedding arrangements I want to get done before the bachelorettes come for the fitting next week.”

Clarke blinks. Time really has been flying by.

“That fast, huh?” She says casually.

“You know, that’s life.” The brunette pauses, bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Clarke observes her fingers on the wheel, short nail scratching absentmindedly against the leather cover. It seems like she want to say more, so Clarke sits patiently, waiting.

“Sometimes things just happen that quickly.” Lexa’s gaze darts towards hers for a millisecond before tearing away. “Overwhelmingly and terrifyingly quickly.”

Clarke nods, heart skipping at the words.  She forces herself to turn to look out the window, afraid that her expression might give away the admission she had confessed to Octavia just a few days ago.

_Settle down, Thirsty! She’s talking about the wedding._

Lexa drums on the steering wheel with her thumbs as the music fills the space between them until two pair finally arrives at a small flower boutique.

“Centerpieces?” Clarke guesses before noticing how Lexa’s steps hesitate as they cross the lot. The closer they get, the slower she seems to move.

“Hey,” The blonde states carefully, wrapping a hand around the brunette’s wrist. “Are you okay?”

Lexa nods, frozen in place. Clarke takes a tentative step towards the older woman, blue eyes meeting green as they search desperately for some sort of explanation.

“Lexa.” She coaxes in a whisper.

It takes a moment for any sort of response.

Instead of vocalizing her needs, Lexa casts her gaze downwards where she holds out her hand. Clarke seems to understand her request, wordlessly lacing their fingers together. She hopes her palms aren’t too sweaty, but Lexa doesn’t seem to mind as she tightens her grip, finding comforting in the physical contact between them.

When the shop door opens, a bell rings overhead to announce their arrival and Clarke gives her an encouraging squeeze. Though she isn’t sure of why this place seems to be triggering to Lexa, Clarke is honored that Lexa is willing to let herself be vulnerable around her.

Vera, according to the nametag on the flower shop owner’s apron, smiles warmly at Lexa as though she’s seeing an old friend. Her gentle grey eyes fall over the pair as she greets them.

Under the woman’s gaze, Clarke wonders if she should drop her hand, but Lexa simply holds it firmly in place.

“Oh my, Lexa!” she gasps. “Darling.” She coos with a sort of familiarity that makes Clarke think that she’s known the brunette for quite a long time. But the way her eyes shine with a specific wisdom tells her that the bond they share is tinged with a sort of sadness. The universe decides to confirm her suspicions when Vera sets down the cellophane wrapping material she had been working with, tying off a ribbon around the base of the stems in the bouquet she’s packaging. She tucks her scissors away into the pocket of her apron before rounding the counter, her clogs shuffling slowly as she does.

“The last time you came by here was quite a while ago. It’s a pleasant surprise to have you back.”  She holds out her arms, fingertips trembling feebly as she does.

Clarke notices how Lexa hesitates through the nod she returns with a slight tilt of her chin. She appears unfazed, her features give nothing away, but the blonde knows. She can feel it in the press of her hand, the one that’s clasped with Lexa’s, that she picks up on the slight tension.

When Lexa finally lets go of Clarke’s grip, stepping into the woman’s outstretched embrace, the blonde takes a step back to allow the two some space.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back.” Clarke hears the brunette whisper before deciding that maybe the conversation isn’t meant for her to hear. She catches the faintest hints of their conversation while she shuffles to the back of the shop, out of earshot.

“When someone goes from purchasing bouquets of roses to a single lily, I usually learn to expect that they won’t be coming back.” Vera says sadly, though her eyes are filled with understanding.

Clarke turns away to allow them a private moment, feigning interest in the floral displays sitting in the window. She genuinely gets lost in the blending of colors, finding a subtle underlying form of art in the arrangements.

A hand on her bicep causes her to jump slightly and a stifled giggle resounds from behind her.

“Sorry.” She blushes as plump, soft lips quirk to the side.

“Don’t worry.” Lexa assures. “I just realized I never introduced you.” The brunette says, gesturing to the woman at her side. Clarke had been so entranced by the yoga instructor that she hadn’t even noticed that Vera was flanking her other side.

“Clarke, this is Vera. She’s going to be Anya’s florist.”

“Nice to meet you.” She offers an outstretched hand.

The woman’s hands are aged and there are obvious callouses on her wrinkled hands, but her grip is steady and welcoming, despite her frail appearance.

“You weren’t the blonde I expected to walk in with Lexa, though you’re just as beautiful.” Vera says with a twinkle in her eye.

Clarke blushes, unable to bring herself to glance over at the brunette to her side.

“I told Anya to focus on packing. I could handle this.” Lexa says, though her voice trembles. Vera doesn’t seem to notice, but Clarke does. She skirts her fingertips along Lexa’s wrist in silent assurance.

“I brought Clarke in case though.” She says before pausing. “Uhh, she’s an artist.” She tacks on quickly.

Vera smiles between the two of them, a twinkle in her eye. “How lovely!”

“I was hoping she’d be able to help me pick something out.” Lexa relays the information. Clarke blinks, having only heard this for the first time. But Lexa continues on. “She has a great eye for minor details that normal people wouldn’t pick up on.” She spares a glance in Clarke’s direction before speaking. “Shapes, colors, patterns, you name it. She can do it.” The brunette praises and the blonde’s stomach bubbles at the compliment.

“You really want me to pick something for Anya’s wedding?” Clarke hopes the surprise in her voice isn’t too evident.

“No pressure, Clarke.” Lexa says gently. The way she says her name this time is softer, different than in the past.

_Don’t read into it._

“I’d just like to get your suggestions, or any opinions you may have.” Lexa explains levelly. “Anya will be the one who makes the final decision, but at least you can help narrow down the options.”

“So what are we working with here?” She angles her body to accommodate both Lexa and Vera’s attention.

“White petals, gold accents, and black… something.” Lexa explains.

“Right.” Clarke recalls the details from running other errands with the brunette.  Same color scheme. “How about a white flower with gold glitter sprinkled on the petals. It could be really classy.” She proposes.

“Or maybe something with black tulle ribbon. You could paint the outside tips of the petals gold. It might be tedious, but I think that could be classy too.” She suggests, a little unsure about how the logistics of the design would work, but she can picture it in her head.

“What about dip-dying? Braiding gold or black ribbon around the stems?” She continues to list, her mind spinning with ideas.

“Well, Clarke, It sounds like you might have this all taken care of.” Vera chortles. “You might even put me out of my job. Should I be worried?” She gives her a light nudge.

“No.” Clarke shakes her head rapidly, a strand of blonde hair falling out from where it had been tucked into her hat. “I can assure you that my true love is with 2D mediums.” She insists. “No offense.” She backtracks. “Florals are nice too.” She awkwardly tries to offer as consolation.

“None taken, dear.” Vera chuckles kindly. She then turns to Lexa with a smile. “She’s sweet.” She whispers, as though the blonde isn’t standing directly between the two.

“I know.” Lexa leans in, whispering back.

Clarke isn’t sure what inside joke the two seem to be playfully acknowledging, but the compliment causes her to redden anyway. 

“So, Clarke, do you want to help me with some sample mock-ups?” The woman redirects her attention back to focus on the cherry-faced artist.

Clarke nods in confirmation, following the two women into the dedicated work area of the shop.

After a half hour of collaboration between the creatives, accompanied by intermitted compliments from Lexa, the three conjure up their top three arrangements.

Finally, the brunette snaps a few photos of them before sending them off to her sister in a caption-less text message.

 “Google the meaning behind them.” Vera smiles to the two with a wink before sending them off with a single white gardenia in each of their hands.

“Take care.” She waves.

“We will.” Clarke assures, as she holds the door open for Lexa to exit.

“Of each other.” The woman tacks on. The way she speaks the words insinuating something more than platonic friendship.

Lexa’s steps slow at that as her eyes meet Clarke’s in a mysterious hold. The blonde grips the door handle a bit tighter, noticing the way Lexa’s jaw pivots, lips parted. A moment passes, far too long to be consider a coincidence, before the brunette casts her gaze over her shoulder.

“We will.” Lexa pledges. When she looks back at Clarke, her eyes are softer and the two make their way back to the car. They don’t talk about the moment they shared, but neither can deny, it couldn’t have just been platonic. And Lexa hadn’t run, so that was a good sign? Right?

“So what does it mean?” Lexa asks.

“Sorry?” Clarke shakes her head, clearing her daydream from her mind.

“What do the gardenias symbolize?” The brunette inquires, not taking her eyes of the road.

“Oh, right.” The blonde nods to herself, pulling out her phone to look up the significance of the plant. “It says that gardenias are also given to convey “you’re lovely”. Used in this way, the gardenia is a flower that can be given to lovers, friends, and even family. Other commonly associated meanings include; trust, hope, purity, renewal, and alignment.”

Lexa hums from the driver seat, but otherwise says nothing else. They fall into a comfortable silence as they make their return to the artist’s apartment.

“Thanks for coming with me.” The brunette thanks when she kills the engine.

“No worries. After not hearing from you for two days, I figured you were getting really busy with wedding planning.” She tries to offer her understanding, though something in her gut didn’t quite believe it. But they were alright now, right? No use questioning the past.

“Right.” Lexa blushes. “Busy.”

Clarke raises a brow, waiting for further explanation, but it never comes.

“Anyway, I hope Anya likes at least one of the options.” The blonde jokes, hoping to ease the tension.

“Don’t worry.” Lexa eases with a shrug. “I think she’s starting to become more flexible with things.”

“Oh, is she going to yoga?” She teases, making an upward stretching motion.

“No.” Lexa releases a small chuckle, batting her hands back down. “She’s even more adverse than you.”

“Wow.” Clarke gapes, hands falling back into her lap. “That’s pretty bad.”

“We’re getting better though.” The brunette offers, her eyes meeting Clarke’s with something left unsaid. The green windows open for a moment, drifting down to Clarke’s mouth before shooting up again.

“That’s good.” Clarke replies, throat going dry.

“It is.” Lexa’s voice is barely even a whisper.

She feels herself gravitating towards the brunette before a buzz from Clarke’s phone breaks the silence and she holds back a grumble when she sees that Dante is calling.

“It’s my boss. I should probably answer it.” She hurriedly explains.

“Right, right.” Lexa agrees, nodding, blinking a few times before her hand hovers over the control panel, unlocking the door.

“I’ll talk to you later?” She rushes out.

“Of course.” Lexa nods.

Clarke gathers her flower before opening the door with one hand, buzzing phone still in the other.

“Clarke! Wait!” Lexa blurts and the blonde turns back just in time to feel soft pink lips against her cheek. “Thank you.” Lexa whispers, one hand cupping her face.

Dumbfounded and unable to move, Lexa gives her shoulder a soft push before smiling.

“Answer your phone.” She teases, lip wedged between her teeth and a rosy hue to her cheeks.

“Okay.” Clarke obliges, her own cheeks matching Lexa’s in color.

\---

“Are these for the wedding?” Anya asks over the phone her later that evening.

“Yes.” Lexa confirms.

“And is that…” There’s a pause and Lexa can only picture Anya squinting at the phone before pinching two fingers outwards. “Did you go to Vera’s?” Her sister inquires.

“Yes.” Is her honest reply.

“And…” There’s hesitancy in her voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Lexa assures.

“Are you capable of more than one word answers?” Anya retorts snidely.

“Yes.” Lexa responds, doing her best to bite back a giggle.

She hears an audible huff on the other end of the line.

“So do you like any of them?” She asks, changing the subject.

“I do.” Anya assesses. “But go back. You went to Vera’s?”

She can tell that her sister wants details, so she relents slightly.

“I asked Clarke come with me, but yes.” She reiterates. “I finally went to Vera’s.”

“Wow.” She can hear the amazement in Anya’s voice, even through the phone. “You know you didn’t have to do that. I was going to go next week.”

“Anyway, the arrangements?”  Lexa doesn’t want to argue. She’s actually happy she went, _proud_ even.

“The first one looks nice.” Anya says.

“I like that one.” Lexa agrees.

“And the second isn’t bad either.” Her sister contemplates.

“No, it’s not. I like that one too.” The brunette agrees again.

“And the third’s pretty.” The older sibling notes.

“It is.” Lexa affirms.

Anya snorts.

“What are you laughing at?” the brunette questions, holding her phone out, glancing questioningly at the screen.

“You.” Her sister replies.

“Me?”

“Clarke arranged all of those, didn’t she?” The blonde asks. A knowing hint of amusement lingers in her tone.

“Umm.” Lexa’s grateful that Anya can’t see her blush through the phone. “No?”

“Oh, Lexa.” She can practically see the way that Anya is shaking her head.  “You’re an idiot sometimes, but I love you.”

But she can’t bring herself to feel any sort of irritation, her entire chest consumed by the fluttering in the pit of her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Got caught up with work, conferences, job interviews, and birthday celebrations.


	18. Sister Knows Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya decides to step in. It actually doesn't go horribly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monster of a chapter up ahead! You've been warned.

_"Back so soon?" Vera asks, dusting off her hands from the dirt and potting soil she had been working with._

_Lexa blushes, nodding bashfully. “Things are going well.” She confesses to the woman. “I need something for our date tonight.”_

_Vera nods. “She must be quite special for you to come here every week.” She jokes. By now, she already knew that the two held a weekly date night. It was Costia’s idea; every Friday. It made things simple._

_“She is.” Lexa laughs, playing along. She had been coming for three months straight, ever since the two made it official with a small flower bouquet to accompany almost every date. And she and Costia had a lot of them._

_Things with Costia had always gone smoothly, calm, and easy. She was soft and gentle, tender and slow; sweet._

_“How’s she doing?” Vera inquires, picking up on the far-off look in her eye._

_“She’s good.” Lexa smiles. “Really good.” She emphasizes, grin widening across her face. “Actually, I have a picture to show you.” She says, pulling out her phone and bringing up her photos._

_She scrolls until she gets to a picture of her girlfriend with her arms outstretched, gesturing around her. She’s completely surrounded with flowers of all sorts; some from Lexa, and some from herself. They both went to Vera’s, sometimes on the same night, to pick out bouquets for the other. It was a bit excessive, but they had fallen into the routine of it. And it was comforting, aside from the apartment turning into a jungle._

_Vera chuckles._

_“You could open up your own flower shop if you wanted.” She teases._

_“I would never.”_

_“I know.” Vera wrinkles brow, studying the picture a little closer._

_“She’s very pretty.” She comments with a soft whisper. Lexa smiles proudly._

_“I know.” She whispers back, heart skipping as she looks back at the photo. Vera leaves her with her thoughts, as she admires the woman in the picture. When she returns, a small bundle of flowers are wrapped in lavender pastel tissue paper._

_“I hope you have a beautiful time tonight.” The woman bids._

_“Thank you.” She says, handing over her credit card without bothering to ask the price. Vera always gave her a discount, for whatever reason. Maybe that’s why she always came back._

_“I expect you to invite me to the wedding.” She teases as she completes the sales transaction._

_Lexa replaces her card into her wallet, using the time to duck her head to hide her blush. “It’s only been a few months, that’s a little early don’t you think?”_

_“Love does not have a timeline, darling.” Vera says seriously with a pointed look. “Either I’m a guest, or I’m the florist. Take your pick.” She demands, though her tone is entirely light-hearted. Eventually, she breaks character and lets a warm chuckle escape._

_“Of course, Vera.” Lexa laughs along with her. “Of course.”_

\---

Clarke makes it to the elevator just in time to answer the call before it goes to voicemail. She practically smashing the phone against her face in her rush, feeling a strange item caught between the two.

“Hello?” She answers before pulling the device away. A flower falls at her feet as she does. Her eye widen.

_Lexa._

She had been so caught up with the feeling of Lexa’s lips against the rise of her cheekbones that she hadn’t even noticed her slip the flower behind her ear. Lexa was so smooth without even trying. It made Clarke’s belly fill with butterflies.

She bends to pick up the flower, shaking it off lightly. A few of the petals had been creased, but nothing a little love and care couldn’t fix. It wasn’t broken by any means, just a little damaged. Something about its appearance parallels her own life at its current state.

“Clarke?” She hears her name faintly in her ear.

“Sorry, sir.” She apologizes to her boss.

“I hope that silence was a result of your excitement.” Dante chuckles. “I asked if you’d like to be featured as one of our Most Promising Artists.”

Clarke’s jaw drops. “You want me to be an MPA?” She’s honored. Only the most prestigious exhibitors were asked to display their works at the follow up. It was an elite showing where only the highest paying VIP patrons were invited to bid on each piece.

“Your last series was incredibly well received, and you were given very high compliments amongst my colleagues.” Dante sings his praises.

“I...” It takes a moment for her to find any other word besides _HELL FUCKING YES_. “I... I would be so honored, sir. Thank you.” She says, trying to contain her excitement, careful not to crush the delicate petals in her hand.

“Then it’s settled.” He decides. “I’ll write it down to confirm that you have a reserved spot in the gallery. We can go over the details of how much property you’ll need to display your works closer to the date of the exhibition.”

“That sounds perfect. Thank you so much!” She says again, pumping her fist in the air the second the line beeps, signifying the conclusion of the call.

She starts to dance excitedly, arms flailing around her, legs shooting out into jerky, obnoxious movements. She’s so pumped that she becomes completely unaware of the elevator doors pinging, opening in the middle of her celebratory victory dance to a middle-aged couple that eyes her curiously, if not somewhat warily.

“Oh, uhh...” She immediately halts, one hand with a flower between her fingers held frozen in place above her head, her right leg bent in the most awkward of positions. “Sorry.” She immediately straightens and shuffles closer to the edge of the elevator.

The pair pick their jaws off the floor, moving to the opposite side of the confined space.

“Floor seven please.” The woman finally says.

Clarke nods, pressing the button as well as the fourth for her own residence. The ride up can’t have been more awkward. She mentally scolds herself for getting so distracted and forgetting to press the buttons. But when the doors open and she makes her way down the hall, freeing her from the uncomfortable situation, all is cast aside as she notices the apartment light already on. She quickly unlocks the door, practically pouncing on her unsuspecting roommate as she flies inside.

“HI!” Octavia yelps, the contents in the bowl of popcorn that had been resting in her lap flying everywhere.

“Hi!” Clarke grins back cheekily, stomach still pressed against Octavia’s now empty legs.

“You’re in a good mood.” Her roommate notes, flexing her thigh muscles. Clarke shuffles back on her hands and knees before settling across from her, buzzing as she observes her roommate patiently picking the popcorn out of her hair.

“I am!” The blonde beams, taking a piece for herself and placing it in her mouth. Octavia rolls her eyes at her primal behavior, chiding ‘ape’ before continuing.

“Out with Lexa?” She levels a brow teasingly.

“I was,” Clarke confirms, completely unaffected by the typical banter and her roommate’s attempt at getting her to blush. “But that’s not why I’m happy.”

That catches the brunette’s attention. She runs her fingers through her hair one last time to ensure that the popcorn is gone before giving her a pointed look.

“Okay, she’s still part of the reason why I’m happy.” Clarke confesses, fingertips dipping into the center of the flower, tracing the softness of the petals. “But there are other things too.” She admits, smiling smugly. She wants to build up the suspense just a little more.

She waits for a beat.

Then another.

“Well, spit it out, woman!” Octavia slaps her arm lightly.

Clarke makes a dramatic show of pretending to be injured, cradling her forearm frailly.

“Careful! I’m going to need that if I’m going to be exhibiting at the MPAs this year.” She reprimands.

“You’re such a baby.” Octavia shrugs, reaching to salvage whatever popcorn is left in the bowl. Her hand gets halfway there when the realization hits her. “Oh my god!” She turns back to face Clarke fully. “Did you just say the MPAs?” Her green eyes shine brightly.

“YES!” Clarke grins widely.

“CLARKEY!” The brunette all but throws the bowl in the air, causing the blonde to laugh at her reaction. They’re a mess, but she couldn’t care less in that moment.

“I’m so happy for you!” She squeals, bouncing up and down. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you!” She says, genuine smile erupting from between her lips. “It’s really humbling.”

“Good!” Octavia gives her a nudge. “Sometimes your ego needs deflating.”

“Shut up.” She sticks her tongue out in retaliation.

“Just saying,” the younger girl holds up her hands in defense. “The Clarke I’ve seen the last few weeks has been great. I definitely approve.” Octavia comments.

“Thanks.” She blushes. “Me too.”

“So?” Her roommate glances at their apartment, popcorn kernels tossed about, wedged between the couch cushions, and all across the floor. “How should we celebrate?” She proposes.

“Shouldn’t we clean this up first?” Clarke notes, surprising them both with how responsible she’s become.

“Maybe.” Octavia shuffles off the couch, tossing the blanket that had previously been draped across her lap. “ _Or_ I could have Lincoln stop by the liquor store on his way over. Party time?” She sing-songs, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, prompting Clarke to burst into laughter.

“It’s so last minute though.” She points out. “Who would even come?”

“Oh,” Octavia grins deviously. “I can think of a few.”

“Am I going to regret this?” Clarke muses.

“Maybe.” The brunette shrugs. “Maybe not.” She laughs.

“Alright then.” Clarke smiles. “Let’s do it!” She obliges.

Tucking the flower into the safety of her room, she quickly jumps into the shower while her roommate works her magic.

\---

Two hours later, Lincoln has placed out several bottles of soda as well as three different types of rum, vodka, and whiskey. The apartment is surprisingly full for a random Tuesday night, and somehow, probably Monty or Jasper, have put together a very elaborate sound system.

“Jesus, O.” She shouts over the music. “How many people did you invite?” She asks as another flood of guests arrive.

“Just a few dozen of our nearest and dearest friends.” Octavia grins proudly of her spontaneous event planning skills.

“I’ve definitely got to give to give you props. I’m impressed, if not a little overwhelmed as well.”

“Shut up and enjoy the party.” The brunette teases lightheartedly. “By the way, turn around.” she nudges Clarke in the side, purposefully hitting her most ticklish spot, causing her to yelp.

She attempts to glare at her roommate, but finds herself unable to even remember what she’s upset about simply because in that very moment, the apartment door opens and Clarke’s eyes immediate catch sight of gorgeous brunette waves, untucked from her typical braid, sinfully tight skinny jeans tucked into a dark booties, and a light tank top with sequin neckline draped delicately over a frame that can only be described as goddess-like. Clarke feels parched, taking a swing of the drink in her hand as Lexa enters the apartment, attention drawn to the collar of her shirt, and consequently, the exposed skin of her collarbones.

Suddenly, the rest of the world disappears around her. All she can focus on is Lexa. All she _wants_ to focus on is Lexa.

_You are royally fucked, Griffin._

_And you love it._

Their eyes meet from across room and Clarke gives a cheeky wave, unable to hide the grin on her face at the opportunity of being able to see the brunette again. Lexa offers her a quick wink in return before turning to the girl at her side. She leans in, whispering something into the older woman’s ear. Anya gives her elbow a squeeze, nodding before seeking out Lincoln in the kitchen. Her roommate’s broad-shouldered boyfriend had taken over “bartending” duties after Jasper started mixing the moonshine with such alarmingly generous amounts of liquor that it could potentially induce alcohol-poisoning.

“Hey stranger.” Lexa greets. “Long time no see.” She jests.

“Glad you could make it.” Clarke smiles widely. “Good to know you’re not too tired of me yet.”

“Nah, but I’m getting there.” The brunette says light-heartedly, while Clarke pretends to pout, sticking her tongue out in the most immature fashion, while simultaneously scrunching up her nose.

Lexa crossing her arms, waiting for Clarke to finish her theatrics. “You done yet?” She muses.

Clarke shakes her head once, blowing a raspberry in the brunette’s direction. “Okay, now I am.” She concludes.

Lexa rolls her eyes good-naturedly before muttering a sarcastic “Cute.”

“I thought so.” Clarke shrugs, the alcohol in her system making it easier to joke around with the yoga instructor.

“So, I hear Dante picked you to be one of his Most Promising Artists.” Lexa says. “That’s a pretty big honor, right?”

“I guess.” The blonde shrugs, digging the toe of her shoe into the carpet. “I’m one of three that the VIP patrons will be able to purchase works from. The pieces I submit will be displayed at the showcase and then auctioned off. Last year the highest bid went to a painting that sold for $15,000.” Clarke explains.

“Damn.” Lexa nods appreciatively. “Maybe I get an autograph before you get too famous.” She teases, laughing lightly.

“I don’t think I could be in that sort of spotlight.” Clarke shakes her head. “Despite what you may think about my asshole ego…” She attempts to make the self-deprecating comment, but is immediately cut off.

“Your ego is fine, Clarke.” Lexa rebukes. “There’s nothing wrong with who you are.”

_Oh._

“Umm.” Clarke blushes at how insistent Lexa’s tone is, a flare of passion burning in her eyes with each word.

“Anyway, uhh. Yeah. It’s actually really humbling.” She notes. “I didn’t want to have a party to brag about it, but O convinced me. I figured we haven’t hosted a party in a while, but the congratulations part really wasn’t necessary. We could have come up with another excuse to have a party.” She stops herself from rambling any further by frantically taking a gulp of her drink, allowing the cup to partially shield her face in hopes that Lexa can’t see how much she’s blushing.

_Slow it down, Griffin._

The brunette seems to see right past her tactic, pausing into Clarke has finished off her drink and is forced to remove the cup from her lips.

Green eyes linger in its place before darting back up to meet blue eyes.

“You may not be in the spotlight, but you still shine in your own way.” Lexa compliments. “Give yourself more credit.” She insists.

Clarke’s chest tightens at the genuine kindness of Lexa’s words.

“Thank you.” She whispers.

“You’re welcome.” The brunette replies back just as timidly. The actual sound of the response gets swept away by the pounding bass emitting from the speakers blasting through the apartment, but Clarke hears it anyway, ringing loudly in her chest.

“For the record, _I’m_ impressed.” Lexa emphasizes. “No one deserves I t more than you.” She boasts supportively. “I’ve been lucky enough to see your work and watch _you_ work. And I think you’re pretty special.” Lexa says, quieter as she blushes at the admission.

Clarke’s eyes widen.

_Say what now?_

“I mean…” Lexa bites her lip. “Uhh, your art is special.” She attempts to backtrack. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to…”

This time, Clarke cuts her off, fingers ghosting over the brunette’s wrist. “Thank you.” She says in heartfelt gratitude.

Green eyes fall to where Clarke’s skin burns against Lexa’s warm skin. Their eyes connect before breaking away, the two flushing a matching shade of crimson.

“Umm,” Lexa glances around the apartment, focus wandering to someone in the distance. “I can’t wait for her to see it.” She clears her throat, changing the subject.

Ocean blues follow her line of sight.

“Oh, yeah!” The blonde recalls, memory jogged at the sight of Anya. The woman had been having a seemingly engaging conversation with Lincoln as he maintained order of the liquor stockpile.

“I forgot to tell you earlier, but I actually finished it. Do you…” Before she can invite Lexa to see the studio’s latest completed piece, Anya seems to sense herself being watched, cocking a brow at the two. She tits her head in Clarke’s direction, gesturing with a small signal that Clarke should approach.

The artist quickly apologizes to the brunette, excusing herself.

“I’ll be back in a second.” She promises, quickly scurrying over to the older Woods.

“Why aren’t you offering my sister a drink?” Anya accuses.  Clarke immediately falls victim to the “deer in headlines” expression, which only causes Anya to raise her brow, challengingly.

“Umm.” The younger blonde fidgets nervously with her own empty Solo cup. “I didn’t know if, well, with the incident at the apartment, if it would be a good idea to…”

Anya barely even reacts to her bumbling, a silence falling over them. Clarke picks nervously at her cuticles under the blonde’s scrutinizing gaze. But eventually, narrowed eyes give way to a lopsided smirk that spreads over her face. It’s more cunning that Lexa’s smirk, but without a doubt, a trademark expression of the Woods family.

“Good answer.” Anya seems satisfied with her reply, despite the rambling. She holds out a hand, wiggling her fingers at Lincoln, who, up until this point, had remained silent throughout the whole exchange. He places a cup of something that looks like a makeshift cocktail into her hand.

“Here.” She thrusts the cup forward as Clarke takes it clumsily. “Give her this.” She says confidently.

“Oh.” She blinks. “Thanks. I will.” She says dumbly.

They remain standing there, and again, Clarke begins to go antsy under the older woman’s inquiring eyes.

Luckily, Lincoln comes to her rescue, nudging his best friend, who simply scowls in response.

“Didn’t you want to ask something?” He says, completely unfazed by the abrasiveness of Anya’s behavior.

“I can do it myself.” She rolls her eyes, hip checking him in the process.

Her roommate’s boyfriend chuckles, shaking his head in amusement before directing his attention back to mixing drinks.

Anya turns, almost threateningly, towards the artist. “Don’t book anything for the first weekend in August.” She demands.

“What?” Clarke’s eyes widen at the request. “Why?”

Anya just shrugs, grabbing the cup of moonshine from Lincoln’s grasp before walking away.

“What just happened?” Clarke turns to Lincoln in confusion.

The muscular man grins. “That’s Anya for you.” He shakes his head. “She means well, but she’s pretty bad at expressing it.” He says, watching the blonde forcing herself to intermingle with Octavia and Bellamy with a sort of discomfort. But the effort was definitely appreciated.

“So...” Clarke prompts. “The first week of August? Is that what I  _think_  it is?” Clarke asks, doubtfully. Anya wouldn’t  _actually_  want her at the wedding, right?  _There’s no way._  

Lincoln chuckles at her expression of disbelief. “Depends, do you think it’s the date of her wedding?”

Her jaw drops.

“Holy shit.” She mutters while Lincoln looks on in entertainment. “She really just... I was just... I did... I... I just..”

Octavia comes bounding over in the middle of her ineloquent speech, wrapping her arms around Lincoln’s toned stomach.

“What’s wrong with Clarke?” She raises a brow as the blonde continues dumbfounded, willing her words to properly form a sentence.

“Who broke her?” She asks her boyfriend, resting her chin on his chest.

He leans down to place a tender kiss on her forehead before laughing. “Anya, actually.”

Octavia visibly straightens and Clarke can see the fight or flight instinct in her kick in.

“She invited me to her wedding.” She finally manages to say, just in time to quickly prevent the brunette from reacting irrationally.

“She didn’t hurt you?” her roommate asks. She and Lincoln both confirm with a matching shake of their heads.

“She wouldn’t do that, at least not in public.” Lincoln nudges her in the side.

“What the hell? I thought you were on my side!” Clarke exasperates.

“Fuck no he isn’t. If he’s on anyone’s side, he’s on mine.” Her roommate claims, leaning into her boyfriend smugly.

“Relax, babe.” Clarke laughs. “It’s not that big of a deal.” She tries to come across as coolly as possible.

_That’s bull, and you know it, Griffin._

“Yes it is!” Octavia seems to read her inner thoughts. “Anya’s  _Lexa’s sister._  And Lexa is the Maid of Honor.”

“Yes, I know.” Clarke says obviously.

“So, you’re going to be the Maid of Honor’s date and I’m going to be the Best Man’s date.” Octavia squeals.

“You don’t know that.” She denies, not wanting to get her hopes up.

“Well, I know _I’m_ going to be Linc’s date.” The brunette shrugs.

“That’s true.” He pipes in, snaking his arms to wrap securely around Octavia’s waist.

_Damn, they’re cute._

Clarke can’t help but feel a bit envious of their relationship.

“But hey, listen,” Octavia picks up on her sullen expression. “Linc will have to be there early to help Roan, and I’m assuming Lexa will be doing the same, so we can go together if you want.” She proposes.

Clarke lets a genuine smile spread to reach up to her eyes. “Okay.” She holds out her cup. “Deal.”

Octavia clinks her own drink against it and the two throw back a swing in celebration before Clarke makes her way back to find Lexa.

She extends her fingers, tapping on the brunette’s shoulder, careful not to spill the drinks in her hands.

“Oh hey!” The yoga instructor greets.

“We were just talking about you!” The redhead informs. Lexa had been chatting with Monroe.

“Uhh... what about?” Clarke blushes.

“Don’t worry, Griff.” The shorter girl assures, patting her shoulder with a suspicious grin. “Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

Clarke doesn’t buy it, but doesn’t argue either since their conversation seemingly just wrapped up. The redhead sends them both a wink before sauntering off.

“Hey, sorry for taking so long.” Clarke apologizes. “For you.” She extends the alcohol Anya had mixed specifically for her.

Lexa takes the drink gratefully, bidding Monroe farewell as the blonde passes her a cup.

Clarke clenches her jaw, catching sight of her friend checking out Lexa’s backside as she departs. A wave of unreasonable jealousy, washes over her, despite knowing that Monroe had already been loyally dating Harper. She has no right to feel this way. She and Lexa weren’t together.

_In your dreams, Griffin._

She shakes the thought away, determined to enjoy the evening.

The brunette appears to be unaffected by the objectification of herself, or if she is, doesn’t mention it.

“So, what did you want to tell me earlier?” She asks instead, taking a step towards the blonde, her green eyes attentively focused on Clarke’s with mindful curiosity.

Clarke tries to recall their previous conversation, still somewhat in shock regarding the spontaneous wedding invite.

“Oh, right!” She snaps her fingers when she finally remembers the completed painting. “I forgot to tell you that I actually finished Anya’s portrait this afternoon before you came over.” She explains. “I was just too taken aback to tell you.”

“Sorry.” Lexa apologizes. “It was inconsiderate of me to just drop by.”

“No!” Clarke immediately replies, maybe even a little too forcefully as Lexa startles. “I mean,” Clarke clears her throat. “I like spending time with you, obviously.”

Lexa’s lip quirks to the side shyly, blushing at the admission. “Likewise.” She replies softly.

“Want to see it?” Clarke tilts her head in the direction of the studio and Lexa nods, the two trailing into the darkness of the hallway.

The backs of their hands brush against one another and Clarke offers a bashful smile, which Lexa immediately returns. They step into the studio like it’s a shared secret. And in a way, it is, having shared so many hours between the four canvas-lined walls in the comfort of one another’s company.

 She wishes she had a more extravagant way to reveal the completed painting, but she hadn’t expected to see Lexa so soon, not that it was unwelcome. Nothing about the evening so far had been unwelcome.

“Tada!” She gestures exaggeratedly, arms outstretched as they approach the painting. Lexa stands at her side, quietly taking it in. In that moment, Clarke quietly takes  _her_ in. 

“Amazing.” Lexa says breathlessly, fingers tracing over the indentations and crevices that can only been seen when examined up close.

_You really are._

From far away, on the surface, everything seems beautiful, fine, composed, and perfect. But that beauty can only be created from the rises and falls of each line of paint, every color, and every painstaking stroke.

“I’m at a loss for words. You always seem to do that.” She pauses, glaring at the cup in her hand as though it had done her a terrible wrong, before shaking her head. “Your art, I mean. Your art always seems to do that.”

Clarke bites her lip, humbled by the brunette’s appreciation. She hides her bashfulness behind a large swig of alcohol from her own cup. But to her dismay, Lexa’s awestruck features soon change, taking on a somber expression.

“Hey,” She takes a step closer, the index finger of her free hand drawing light circles around the brunette’s wrist bone. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” Lexa chuckles to herself. “As my sister would put it, I’m just being an idiot.”

Clarke furls her brow. “Penny for your thoughts?”

The brunette just glances at the piece in front of them. “Now that you’ve finished your masterpiece, I have no more excuses to come over.” Lexa says cheekily in an attempt to sound light-hearted.  But the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes hints at a real sense of disappointment.

“You’re  _always_  welcome to come hang out.” Clarke offers, carefully rotating her hand until her palm presses against Lexa’s limp fingers, hand hanging at her side. Delicate digits entwine with hers, giving an appreciative squeeze.

“You know, it’s not fair.” Lexa says wishfully, taking another sip of her drink. “You should be there when she gets it. Or at least be able to see her reaction somehow.” The brunette says thoughtfully. “You put in so much effort.”

“Actually...” Clarke drawls out sheepishly. “I might be.”  She masks her laugh by drinking from her cup again.

Emerald orbs brighten. “Really?”

Clarke nods from behind the rim, swallowing once more before speaking. “Anya sort of invited me.” She explains.

“Really?” The brunette grins. “When did she do that?”

“Just now.” The blonde attempts to sound unfazed, but the astonishment is still there. “Informally, of course.” She adds. “I didn’t get an invite or anything. I don’t know.” She pauses, wheels turning in her head. “Do you think she’s trying to prank me?” She asks the woman’s younger sister.

“Hmm.” Lexa hums. “No. I don’t.” She says seriously. “Anya doesn’t do pranks. She teases, but she doesn’t prank.”

“Okay.” Clarke allows it to settle, but that doesn’t stop her from feeling extremely nervous regarding the entire situation, Octavia’s implications of it being a date, and more specifically,  _Lexa’s_  date, hovering in the back of her mind.

The brunette is quick to pick up on her hesitancy.

“Do you think you’ll come?” Lexa asks, lips tugged up in the smallest smirk. Clarke knows what she’s doing, trying to relieve her hesitation with coy banter. She plays along.

“I don’t know. Do you want me to?” She challenges, though the words are truthful.

The alcohol in her system slowly increases her confidence, the two making bolder moves as the night wears on. Lexa steps impossibly closer until their chests are pressed together.

“What do  _you_  want?”  The brunette dares. Clarke swallows, eyes darting to the plump curve of Lexa’s bottom lip.

A rather loud banging at the door causes the two to jump apart, the blonde with a small yelp, and the brunette to scramble back with slightly darkened pupils.

_Shit._

“I need to pee.” She hears Jasper’s drunken slurring from outside the door. The handle turns a moment later and Clarke summons up every ounce of willpower to keep herself from punching the boy in the face for interrupting.

 “The bathroom is on the other end of the hall.” She grumbles, catching the intoxicated boy before he trips, ruining one of the canvases that had been propped up by his feet.

“Ooooo!” He blinks much too slowly.

Lexa giggles at her side and Clarke groans. “He’s been here so many times.” She whines. “He should know better.”

The boy just smiles stupidly and it’s evidently clear that the moment between her and Lexa had passed.

She points the boy in the right direction before turning back to the brunette.

“Let’s get out of here before I regret my decision.” She proposes, though she isn’t sure  _which_  decision she’s actually referring to.

 Lexa nods. “Lead the way.” She gestures towards the door.

\---  
Lexa observes the artist reach down through her neckline and passing her hand into her shirt with a sheepish grin. Her tongue pokes out as she knits her brows together, searching. Green eyes widen in surprise. She really should tear her eyes away from the exposed collar. It’s disrespectful and yet, she’s unable to do so.

She was just  _too gay_  sometimes.

She continues to watch on as Clarke finally finds a key in her bra, locking the door.

“Just in case.” She says, turning back to Lexa, catching her mid-ogle. Lexa’s ears burn brightly, cheeks flushing red.

The blonde cocks a brow in silent amusement. 

“Wanna play?” She recovers smoothly, and this time Clarke is the one who falters.

“Excuse me?” The artist asks, flustered.

“Drinking games.” The brunette clarifies, raising her chin in the direction of the small group that had gathered in the living room, a bunch of cards arranged in a circle around a beer can.

“Oh.” The blonde flushes. “Of course!”

The two join in a game of Kings Cup, squeezing into the narrow space between a boy named Bryan, and his crush, Nathan. The brunette sits with her feet tucked under her while Clarke mimics her position. It’s a tight fit, and their legs partially overlap one another, but if Clarke isn’t going to complain, neither is Lexa.

She pretends not to notice her sister watching her intently, a devious sparkling in her dark eyes. She knows it’s because of Clarke.

When Anya draws an eight of clubs, she smirks at Lexa but to everyone’s surprise, choose Clarke to be her date instead.

Raven goes next, leaning awkwardly as she attempts to reach for a card without having to shift her weight too much onto her outstretched leg.

“Jack.” She wedges the card under the tab of the beer can. “I’ve got a good one.” The Latina side-eyes Bellamy from across the circle. It’s only then that Lexa notices they aren’t sitting together, though she had assumed they were a couple. They certainly acted like one.

“Never have I ever been afraid of my own feelings.” She says with a sharp bite to her tone. Green eyes observe the group, but it seems that no one else has picked up on the slight aggression. Or at least, hasn’t outwardly expressed.

She schools her face to neutrality while the majority of the circle drinks.

“Never have I ever had sex with someone of the same gender.” Octavia declares proudly.

“Cheap shot.” She hears Clarke mutter from beside her. She, Zoe, Clarke, Nathan, and Bryan take a drink. Shyly, so does Monty.

Lexa offers him a kind smile, which he returns with a blush.

“Never have I ever gone skinny dipping.” Lincoln says.

Lexa groans, taking a drink alongside the majority of the group. She looks around the circle, surveying the guilty parties and is surprised to find that Clarke is not one of them.

She raises a brow from behind the rim of her cup, waiting for the blonde’s explanation.

“I uhh, don’t know how to swim.” The blonde confesses timidly.

 “I’m out.” Nathan declares.

“Me too.” Bryan admits sheepishly.

Lexa supposes she is as well, continuing to drink.

“Alright, Mills.” Monroe facilitates after the losers take their drink. “You’re up.”

“Four.” He shouts and hands shoot out from every direction towards the floor. Amongst the rush, Lexa’s right hand falls directly atop of Clarke’s left and though she had been faster than Jasper, who had been the last person in the circle to react (a clear result of the alcohol he had from earlier), Lexa was disqualified and declared the loser because her hand had never technically touched the ground, just the soft, warm skin of the artist’s hand.

She takes an extra-long gulp to allow some time for her blush to subside.

When it’s Lexa’s turn, she draws another eight.

Monroe wiggles brow, suggestively.

“We had a pretty nice conversation didn’t we?” The fellow lesbian reminds her. Lexa chuckles. Yes, she supposes they had. After all, they had been discussing their mutual love for women, specifically blonde women.

Zoey preferred brown eyes, but Lexa had explained that she was a sucker for blue. Then they started talking about their perfect girlfriend, Lexa stating that she used to think she knew. But lately, those ideals have been turned on their head. The redhead had given her a knowing look, confessing that Harper had also turned her “playboy” attitude and turned it to mush.

Lexa had smiled, admiring, if not somewhat envious of their relationship. During their discussion, she had almost let her crush on Clarke slip, but luckily the blonde in question had stepped in, halting their conversation just in time.

The brunette just shakes her head as she laughs.

“Harper would be so disappointed in you right now.” She retorts before giving Clarke a gentle smile.

“Clarke, let us drink together.” She proposes playfully, ignoring the way Zoey pretends to be offended by the rejection.

“It would be my pleasure.” Clarke humors. “Sorry, Zee.”

“I should have known.” The redhead laughs with a light-hearted roll of her eyes. She winks at Lexa for good measure before side-eyeing Clarke.

Lexa pretends not to see and takes a rather large gulp of her drink.

They continue on for a few more rounds before the game ends and Bryan eventually breaks the circle, downing the beer as the rest of the group disperses. Admitting defeat actually works in his favor though, because Nathan helps him up, and the two walk out hand in hand to the balcony. Lexa silently roots for the best between them.

As of recently, she had become more receptive to the thoughts of love again. She steals a glance at the honorary member of the night, watching how Clarke throws her head back in brilliantly laughter, blue eyes alight with a glow that makes her seem to radiate among those around her. She doesn’t know the name of the boy she’s currently talking to, but he seems absolutely charmed by her. Lexa can see why.

She loved uncovering all the different parts of Clarke. She loved that she was so multi-faceted; humble yet confident, sharp yet clumsy, uniquely creative yet disastrously unorganized, stubbornly jaded yet managed to have the biggest heart. Each of her juxtapositions only seemed to add to her allure.

Lexa smiles fondly as the quirky blonde starts to get more engrossed in the conversation, arms flying wildly in gesture as she almost knocks over her drink in the process of explaining whatever it is has gotten her so excited.

The brunette giggles into her hand as the blonde looks around the room, probably to see if anyone had witness her klutzy moment.

When their eyes meet, Clarke wedges her lip between her teeth. The brunette offers a nod and friendly smile and Clarke returns back to her conversation as Lexa continues to just take everything in from the couch.

The second time she gets caught, Clarke cocks her head to the side, just slightly. It’s enough to ask  _are you okay?_ Which Lexa appreciates. Endlessly so.

She nods in reassurance, and Clarke’s reply is another smile, wide, toothy, and bright. It makes Lexa’s stomach tumble and heart hammer. She decides to set her drink aside, even though she knows, it’s from everything but the alcohol.

\---

Even when they’re apart, Clarke tries to keep an eye on the brunette at all times. Not because of the alcohol, or triggers, but because,  _God_ , when they’re not together,  _she misses her._

It’s an alarming revelation that she only just discovered after being tugged away by their many friends who wanted to offer her their congratulations for being awarding the honor of Most Promising Artist. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate it, or want to be in their company, it’s just that, well, she likes being in Lexa’s even more.

“You’re both idiots.” A voice startles her.

 _Holy fuck!_ She practically drops her drink in the process.

She looks over to find Anya with her arms crossed, cup resting against her forearm.  

“Quit drooling over each other. It’s gross.” She scoffs, brow cocked in amusement over Clarke’s cheeks, now blooming cherry red from embarrassment. The older blonde eyes her with the smallest tilt of smirk, so similar to Lexa’s, yet so different. Anya’s was sharp, cunning, and dangerous, while Lexa’s was secretive, wild, and still gentle at the same time.

Blue eyes subconsciously wander towards the brunette in their own accord.

“Seriously, Griffin.” The older woman elbows her, causing her to yelp. “Stop staring at my baby sister like that or I’m going to vomit.” She warns. “Potentially on you.” She adds.

Clarke drops her gaze to the floor while Anya laughs. It’s the first time, Clarke thinks, that she’s ever heard it. It’s low and raspy, nothing like her younger sister’s, which was light and breathy.

She mentally kicks herself for drifting back to the brunette so quickly yet again. And she can tell that Anya knows, judging by the way she snorts at Clarke’s guilty expression.

_Behave before she murders you._

She’s pretty sure the older woman was getting a real kick out of how much of a pushover she was being.

“Ever play fuck you pyramid?” Anya asks, gesturing at the abandoned pile of cards on the coffee table.

Clarke recalls a time or two in college, shuddering at the memory.

“Unfortunately, yes.” She admits.

“Perfect. We’re playing.”

Before she can react, Anya pulls her to the deck, setting out the card into a triangular formation. Her reflexes are impeccable, Clarke notices, as she reaches out to snag Lexa by the ankle just as she walks passed. She then quickly rounds up Lincoln, and subsequently Octavia, and a few others who decide to scout out what the commotion is about.

“Alright.” Anya begins. “For those of you won’t don’t know how to play, it’s simple. You put down a card that’s sequentially higher or lower, and designate a person to drink by say ‘fuck you’ followed by his or her name. Anyone can put down a card, but once we run out, there’s five seconds before game over. The number of cards in the pile at the end corresponds to the number of seconds the last person to get ‘fucked’ has to drink. The number gets tiered the higher you go up the pyramid. First row, the seconds count as is. Second row, multiple the number of seconds by two. Third, by three. And so on. Everybody got it?”

A circle of nods before the game officially begins.

Anya goes first, placing a king atop the ace. “Fuck you, Lincoln.” She smirks.

Bellamy places down a queen. “Fuck you, O.” He laughs.

“That’s incest, nasty fucker.” The young brunette teases while Bellamy visibly blanches.

“Fuck you, Bellamy.” Raven says, throwing down another king, the same irritation from earlier still evident in her voice.

Bellamy slumps in his seat.

“Fuck you, Lexa.” Anya butts in, setting down an ace.

Clarke quickly jumps to the girl’s rescue.

“Fuck you, Anya.” She dares boldly putting down a two.

The older blonde narrows her gaze, smirking. “Fuck you, Griffin.” She flicks a three into the pile.

“Fuck you, Raven.” Octavia shouts, throwing her four into the stack, the volume of the group getting louder and more excited as the game progresses.

“Oh yeah? Fuck you, Octavia!” Raven places down a five, flipping the girl off for good measure.

“Hey, Lex.” Anya grins. “Guess what? Fuck you!” She laughs, tossing a six.

Clarke waits it out, watching the rest of the group sorting through their cards. Eventually the countdown begins. It’s stuck on Lexa again.

“5!” Anya begins, smiling impishly at her sister.

“4!” The group joins in.

“3!” They chant.

“2!” Even louder.

“Fuck you, Anya.” She slips her final card smoothly onto the top of the pile. The older woman’s jaw falls as the countdown restarts, but they both know that all other options have been expired. When they hit 0, Anya glares.

_Shit. Should have written your will, Griffin._

Her panic is slightly alleaviated when Lexa sends her a smile, impressed with her strategy. Anya chugs for a total of 16 seconds while Lexa replenishes everyone’s hand for the next round to begin.

Anya starts again this time, immediately with an expected “Fuck you, Griffin.”  She says, but there’s a smile on her face.

Clarke laughs. “Fuck you, Anya.” She says with her three.

“Fuck you, Clarke.” Octavia joins in.

“Hey!” She shouts. “What the hell, O?”

“Sorry.” Her roommate shrugs not-so-innocently.

“Fuck you, Octavia!” She throws down her next viable card.

“Fuck you, Clarke.” Lincoln says.

“ _Seriously_? You too?” She gasps in feigned offense.

“Fuck you, Clarke.” Comes a smooth voice to her right. _Lexa?!_

 _“_ Ohh, it’s on.” She chuckles, tossing back her own card in retaliation. “Fuck you, Alexandria Woods!” She laughs.

 _Big mistake_. She realizes, finding her hands empty at having already used up all three of her cards.

“Fuck you, Clarke.” Lexa says, quickly getting her revenge.

“Fuck you, Princess.” Bellamy adds.

“Fuck you, Clarke.” Miller piles on.

“I would totally… fuck you, Clarke.” Jasper ends the round.

She lets out a cackle, not even able to be upset with the terrible attempt at flirting, before chugging her drink.

The next three rounds end with Octavia, Lexa, and Anya each drinking once.

“Row two. The time gets doubled.” Anya reminds.

“Fuck you, Clarke. Fuck you, Clarke.” She starts off again, putting down sequential cards in a row.

“You sure you really want to get married, Anya?” Clarke teases boldly, thankful for the alcohol providing the small amount of liquid courage. “Sounds like you’re pretty into me.”

Anya rolls her eyes with another “Fuck you, Clarke.”

The countdown immediately starts and the blonde stares at the circle in disbelief. She may not have three cards to continue, but there was no way no one else did.

“5!”

“4!”

“3!”

“2!”

“Fuck you, Clarke.” The green-eyed goddess smirks, mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“No fucking way.” She gapes. “I came out to have a good time. I honestly feel so attacked right now.” 

Lexa just laughs and laughs, and _fuck_ , Clarke loves it. She ends up joining in, the entire group laughing as she clutches at her stomach through the countdown.

4 cards, times two. 8 seconds. She takes her drink as they count off.

“Why are you doing this to me?” She asks when the time ends, pouting jokingly as she wipes at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Because you deserve it.” Octavia mocks.

Clarke glares. They’re doing this on purpose, she realizes.

“We’re celebrating you.” Lexa says with kinder words.

“This makes no sense.” Clarke chuckles, shaking her head.

“Shouldn’t you _not_ be trying to fuck me over, then?”  She huffs to Lexa, but deep down, she finds it just as amusing as the rest.

Lexa chuckles, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Nope. Now drink.” Her lips ghost over the shell of her ear, dragging across her cheek before she goes back to the game.

Clarke’s brain short circuit. Just a bit. Just a _big_ bit.

They relent for the next few rounds, but by the time they get to the third row, and very top of the pyramid, the other players have already settled on an unspoken agreement to royally fuck Clarke into a drunken oblivion.

She ends up chugging for so long that she finishes her cup, as well the rest of Lincoln and a quarter of Octavia’s before choking on the liquid.

“Alright, guys.” Lexa pats her back, running her fingertips up and down her spine. “I think Clarke’s had enough.”

“Ugh. Thank you.” The blonde sputters thankfully, tossing her empty cup in defeat onto the coffee table.

Lexa gives her a sympathetic look. “Stay here.” She instructs, patting Clarke on her knee before standing. When she returns a moment later, she hands the blonde a red solo cup. Clarke eyes it warily.

“It’s just water.” She assures, tilting it slightly so that Clarke can see the clear liquid inside. “And it might be a good idea to tap out for the night and find you some food.”

“Yes!” Clarke groans. “Please!” She begs, already feeling the alcohol kicking into her system.

She spends the rest of the night in the kitchen with Lexa eating Spaghetti-O’s and talking, or in Clarke’s case, probably slurring, until the party eventually dies out.

“Did you know…” Clarke sing-songs, eyes drooping slightly. “There’s this dude who was a prisoner in the 90s who asked for Spaghetti-O’s as his last meal?”

Lexa quirks a brow, amused. “Is that so?” She chuckles.

“They gave him spaghetti instead.” Clarke shouts, throwing her hands up into the air dramatically. “What a horrible way to go!” Clarke blurts the useless trivia without a second thought.

“Horrible.” Lexa agrees with light-hearted hint of sarcasm.  

Clarke, in her drunken state, doesn’t quite manage to pick up on it.

“It is.” She says seriously, pointing her spoon at the brunette. “Consider yourself educated.”

The brunette shakes her head with quiet laughter. “And _you_ can consider yourself schooled.” She reproaches, sliding another glass of water across the island.

Clarke sighs, downing the glass before mother nature makes another call and sends her rushing off to the bathroom for the third time in an hour. She relieves herself before returning to the kitchen to find Lexa and Anya sitting on the barstools. For a moment, she hovers in the background, hesitant to approach the siblings.

“Hey,” Lexa seems to automatically sense her arrival. “Still doing okay?” Green eyes scan over her with concern.

Clarke nods.  

“Alright, well, An was just telling me that she was ready to head out.” Lexa explains, the blonde at her side already toying with the keys in her hand. “Do you think you’ll be okay on your own?”

“My own?” the blonde looks around in confusion. She had been too frantic in her quest to get to the bathroom that she hadn’t noticed the entire apartment was empty, save for the two Woods siblings.

“Octavia went home with Lincoln.” Anya fills in for her.

“You’re kidding!” Clarke exclaims. “Abandoning me at my own party.”

“You’re at your own apartment.” Anya snorts. “You’re fine.”

“I can stay with you if you want.” Lexa offers shyly, to both of the blonde’s surprise.

“I uhh, you don’t have to…” Clarke blushes.

“It’s okay.” The brunette assures.

“Are you postive?”

“If you still need me...” The brunette reassures.

“I’d love that.” The blonde smiles. “But you…”

“Oh my god!” Anya lets out a frustrated groan. “Lexa. You’re staying. I’ve decided for both of you dumbasses. Okay? Bye.” She declares, exiting without another word while the duo stares with jaws slack at the apartment door closing.

“Uhh, shall we?” Clarke asks, now suddenly a lot more sober. She didn’t think Lexa would take her half-hearted suggestion seriously. And now, well, now she was incredibly nervous.

When they make it to her bedroom, she finds Lexa’s focus transfixed on the flower that had been sitting on her bedside table. The entire area had been cleared off in her haste, any other object that had previously been on the surface, brushed onto the floor.

“Lexa?” The blonde asks gently.

The brunette breaks her trance, eyes full of affectionate amusement as Lexa chuckles.

“I know.” Clarke says, predicting what Lexa is probably thinking as she admits defeat. “I’m a slob.”

“You’re not a slob.” The brunette rejects instantly. “It’s your quirky method of organized chaos, remember?” She offers. “Quirks can be adorable.”

Clarke can’t help but blush at the implied compliment while Lexa fidgets nervously. They simply stand there as the tension creeps into the atmosphere around them.

“You okay?” She asks, as the minutes go by, she’s starting to think this is a worse and worse idea.

“I…” Green eyes drift towards the bed. “I didn’t really think this through.”

“It’s okay.” Clarke offers. “I can take the couch. You can have the bed. I appreciate you offering to stay but I’m okay.” She confesses. “I was just being a brat. I’m really not that drunk. And now you’re stranded here.”

Lexa shakes her head. “I can’t make you do that.”

“Well, do you want to take my car keys?” She tries another solution, though not ideal. “Are you sober enough to drive home?”  She asks, trying to recall the number of drinks the brunette had.

“No.” The yoga instructor shakes her head again. “It’s not that. I just…” Her eyes dart back to the mattress, blankets untucked.

“We’ve slept together before.” Clarke tries to reason before realizing what insinuations she has just made. “I mean, in the same bed before. It uhh…wow. I am so sorry. I didn’t...”

But then the brunette breaks into a fit of giggles. Everything falls away.

“Why is this so hard for us?” Lexa laughs, and Clarke is relieved to find that the brunette sees the situation as more humorous than awkward.

“Can we just cuddle?” Lexa proposes shyly.

Clarke melts at the adorable way that Lexa flushes at her own suggestion.

“Of course!” She grins, tension disappearing. “But be warned, I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you!” She declares. “Get ready for the best cuddle of your life.”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” The brunette’s shoulders relax.

“Do you want to borrow a something to sleep in?” The blonde offers, already making way to the dresser shuffling through her drawers to retrieve an old t-shirt. “It’ll probably be kind of big on you, but it’s my favorite and it’s really loose and comfortable. So maybe it’ll…” Clarke starts to ramble excitedly, only stopping when she looks up to find Lexa smiling endearingly at her, lip wedged between her teeth.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Lexa chuckles. “Just hand me the shirt.” She teases and Clarke does as she’s told.

“Sailor Scouts, huh?” She teases, holding the graphic tee in front of her, noting the image of the iconic blonde character on the front.

She pauses. “Hmm, I was always more of a Power Rangers girl, myself.” She jokes, pretending to stroke her chin thoughtfully. “They were so much cooler.”

Clarke gasps in feigned offense, throwing her hand over her heart. “No way. Get out.” The blonde says as seriously as she can, pointing a finger towards the door. Her attempt at playfully kicking the brunette is obviously unsuccessful, and Lexa laughs, causing her resolve to break.

“Are shorts okay?” She asks, holding out a pair of cotton pajama shorts.

“Shorts are perfect.” Lexa replies.

Clarke hands them over, ducking out to the bathroom to allow Lexa time to change. She pads to the bathroom, almost choking on her toothpaste when Lexa immerges.

Fuck, she was so wrong.

Shorts are definitely, absolutely _not_ okay.

Clarke gulps, eyes trailing Lexa’s legs as toothpaste drips from her mouth onto her shirt.

“You got a little…” Lexa giggles, gesturing to her face.

The blonde quickly spits into the sick, finishing up with shaking hands. She offers Lexa an extra toothbrush and practically trips over herself on the way back to her room to change.

Once Lexa returns to the bedroom as well, they settle under the sheets, neither of them touching, yet somehow it’s the most intimate they’ve ever been.

“How are you feeling?” Lexa asks again, referring to the amount of alcohol she had ingested over the course of the night.

“Good.” Clarke assures.

“Drunk good or…?”

“Not drunk good.” Clarke shakes her head. “Just… good.” She smiles sheepishly.

Lexa offers a soft smile in return, wrapping her arm around Clarke’s waist. Clarke retreats with an involuntary yelp.

“Did I hurt you?” The brunette immediately relinquishes her hold in alarm.

“No.” Clarke quickly shakes her head, blushing at how girly her squeal had been. “It’s just… I’m just umm, really ticklish.” She explains.

“Oh.” Lexa settles back a few inches away.

_No. Come back!_

“Here,” Clarke gestures for Lexa to rotate onto her side. She scoots forward, switching their positions so that Lexa is the little spoon instead. “Comfy.” She asks.

Lexa nods and Clarke leans forward just enough to get a whiff of her perfume.

The brunette lets out a content sigh. The room falls silent, and for a moment Clarke thinks is almost certain that Lexa is asleep. But then she shifts.

“Thomas Grasso.” Lexa  whispers into the darkness, it almost sounds too loud in their intimate space.  

“Sorry?” she asks, confused.

“The guy who didn’t get his Spaghetti-O’s. His name was Thomas Grasso.” Lexa yawns.

“You knew?” Clarke asks, astonished.

The brunette turns to face Clarke with a sleepy nods. “I may have randomly looked up Spaghetti-O facts one day.” The brunette confesses. Lexa’s eyes are closed, and in the darkness, Clarke can still differentiate the smirk of her lips.  

“Seriously?”

Lexa hums. “With the amount of that stuff that you ingest, I needed to make sure I didn’t have to worry about the you getting cancer or something.” She teases.

“Oh my god.” Clarke giggles. “I actually might be in love with you!” She laughs until she realizes what she had just said; face resembling a deer in headlights.

Lexa doesn’t seem bothered by the words, her eyes don’t even open. But she _does_ slides just a bit closer. “You asked for cuddling, so come and get your cuddle on.” Lexa muses.

Clarke presses forward, holding the brunette in her arms as Lexa burrows into her chest. It’s the best sleep she’s had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend for the chapter to be this long, but I just love Anya, okay?


	19. An Invitation to Her Heart

The pair wakes in a tangled mess of limbs and warm skin. Somewhere through the night, they had managed to completely enwrap themselves in one another’s hold. Clarke’s arm is propped on her hip, palm pressed flat against the small of her back, while Lexa’s face is tucked between the blonde’s chest, nose buried into her neck as she inhales the smell of acrylic that seems to be permanently emanating from Clarke’s skin. It should be unappealing, or at the least, somewhat dizzying. In a way, Lexa guesses, it kind of is dizzying. But in the most thrilling and intoxicating way possible.

The brunette lies in the sheltering embrace, her heart being catered to by the protective arms holding her safe. She reveals in it until she feels a pressure in her lower stomach, reluctantly removing herself from the sheets. Clarke shuffles, blinking awake slowly and the sight of blue eyes reflecting in the morning light causes Lexa’s breath to catch unsuspectingly, amazed by the shear magnificence of the cerulean orbs.

“Everything okay?” The blonde’s husky voice croaks. Lexa adds it to the growing list of things she’s starting to really adore about Clarke Griffin.

“Yeah.” She assures. “Just need to go to the bathroom.” She says. “I’ll be back.”

“Mkay.” The artist mumbles, nuzzling back into the pillow, burying her nose into the spot where Lexa’s hair had been splayed out. The sight makes Lexa’s chest swell.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, she settles back under the sheets, bed dipping under her weight. Clarke’s front is pushed against her back in an instant and the pair release dual sighs of content. Lexa boldly reaches back her hair, pulling Clarke’s arm to snuggly encircle around her waist, linking their hands as she clasps their fingers tightly.

Lexa knows something has shifted between them, she can feel it. And by the way Clarke is holding her, it’s obvious that she feels it too. But neither of them makes the first move to discuss it. And for now, Lexa is more than okay with that, not wanting to rush things. Though it’s technically “new,” something about it feels familiar in a sense. She feels _closer_. Being with Clarke physically, without being physical, feels nice. _Really nice._

She starts to drift off again, lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of Clarke’s breathing, chest pressing closer with each peaceful inhale.

The next time she wakes is when she feels Clarke gently carding her fingers though her hair, carefully unknotting the tangles in her bedhead curls.

“That feels really nice.” Lexa purrs, enjoying the feeling of being pampered, a satisfied whimper escaping her lips. If she hadn’t felt so at ease, it might have almost been somewhat embarrassing.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” She can hear the smirk in the blonde’s words. She gives a playful shove backwards, feeling the puff of breath from the blonde’s soft laughter on her neck.

“Hey Lexa?” Clarke hides herself in Lexa’s hair, her words vibrating off of Lexa’s skin as she hums back in reply.  “Thank you for spending the night. You didn’t have to.” She says gratefully.

“It was my pleasure.” Lexa smiles, tightening her grip on their entwined fingers. “I wanted to.”

“Well let me repay you. Can I make you breakfast? Do you like pancakes or waffles?”

“You don’t have to do that.” Lexa objects.

“It’s my pleasure.” The blonde teases humorously. “I want to.” She parrots.

Lexa snorts. “You’re cheeky in the morning.” Lexa chuckles, relenting. “I guess pancakes wouldn’t hurt.”

“Good!” Clarke gives her a squeeze. “Don’t leave.” She says, unraveling from their tangled position. Lexa does her best not to chase the warmth.

“As long as you promise not to.” She dares to say, rolling to face the retreating blonde.

“Well, it is my apartment.” Clarke jokes, but her eyes soften, telling Lexa that she _knows_ what she’s really meaning to say. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They share a gentle smile before Clarke rushes off into the kitchen while Lexa borrows more of the blonde’s clothes and hops in the shower.

\---

 15 minutes later, Clarke is dancing around in the kitchen to an old-school 90s playlist, hips swaying and spatula in hand as she pours the batter onto the pan; the internal artist in her attempting to create the most perfect circle.

“Nice moves.” Lexa appears at her side, causing her to jump in the air, spatula flying from her hand, but the brunette, with her quick reflexes, shoots forward just in time to catch it from landing on the ground.

In the process, she collides with Clarke’s body, pressing her against the counter with wide eyes, startled in surprise.

“Nice moves.” The brunette repeats with a quirk of her brow and an amused uptick of her lips as she hands the spatula back over the blonde.

 “Like you could do better.” Clarke challenges.

Lexa just continues to smirks.

“I can.” She says, spinning before Clarke can even register the movement and suddenly, Lexa’s hips are swaying against her, back pressed as she grinds seductively against the blonde.

“Oh fuck.” The blonde chokes.

With that, Lexa dips once, throwing a wink over her shoulder before sauntering back to the stove, prying the spatula from Clarke’s grip all in one smooth motion. She then resumes attending to the pancakes, flipping the current  one in the pan over with effortless grace.

“You wish.” She shoots the most devious look over to the baffled blonde.

It takes a moment for Clarke to clear her head and calm her erratic pulse.

“Oh? She has jokes now.” Clarke muses, hoping that the flustered chuckle she lets out doesn’t sound nearly as nervous as she feels.

“Guess you’re cheekiness is rubbing off on me.” The brunette shrugs, tiptoeing to reach into the cupboard to retrieve a plate to place their breakfast onto.

“Must be my clothes.” Clarke toys along.

“Must be.” Green eyes twinkle back playfully. “I certainly smell like you.” She laughs.

“Oh yeah?” It piques Clarke’s interest. “And how exactly do I smell?”

“Like burritos and paint thinner.” She scrunches up her nose in feigned disgusted.

“Wow.” Clarke gapes teasingly. “Cheeky _and_ rude.”

Lexa just throws her head back, laughing freely. It echoes through the entire apartment and the rich sound seeps into her chest, filling her until she feels like she’s ready to burst.

“No, but really,” She says when her laughter finally dies down. “You smell clean. Like something new and fresh.” She gives a little tug at the shirt hanging loosely over her delicate frame.

“And…” Lexa pauses, taking her hair, dampened by the shower into her free hand, sniffing it. “Sort of like gummy bears.”

“Gummy bears?” Clarke raises a brow. “No way.”

“Really.” Lexa insists. “Smell.” She holds out her hair and gestures for Clarke to lean in. It should be weird, but instead it feels kind of… domestic? And so she does.

Just as she’s about to inhale, the apartment door opens with a bang and the two immediately shoot to the opposite sides of the room, spatula clambering onto the floor in their panic.

“Umm? Are we interrupting something?” Her roommate looks suspiciously between the two, eyes scanning over Lexa’s attire before subtly cocking a brow at the blonde.

“We’re just making breakfast.” Clarke gulps.

“Pancakes?” A lower voice says with genuine interest. “Can I help?”

“Of course, Linc.” Lexa chirps from her side.

She catches a third figure sulking over to the couch. She motions in Bellamy’s direction, the boy looking worse for wear, with a curious tilt of her head.

“Raven.” Octavia mouths with a shrug. Clarke frowns, recalling the strained tenseness surrounding the couple from the night before.

“Give me a second.” She excuses herself, making her way to the shaggy-haired lump on the couch, pitifully clutching a cushion to his chest, eyes glued to the history channel.

“So…” She flops down next to him, elbowing him obnoxiously until he reluctantly dislodges himself from his balled up position. “You and Ray?” She prompts.

“Things are uhh... complicated right now.” Bellamy confesses, rubbing at the back of his neck.

She sits, waiting for him to elaborate, should he want to. That was something she found they had in common growing up, both afraid to really voice their problems, compartmentalizing until they could no longer hold it in, or the problems grew so out of hand that they were forced to finally face them.

He sighs but doesn’t speak any further, so she gives him another nudge.

“Isn’t that always the case?” Clarke agrees knowing all too well how it feels.

 His leg bounces lightly until Clarke stills it by setting her hand on his knee, squeezing lightly.

“You can talk to me you know.” She softens, blue eyes searching his. He peers over her shoulder, noticing the trio is no longer paying attention to them, busying themselves in the kitchen and sighs with a nod.

“Raven wants to know what we are.” His voice is deep and weary as he makes his admission. “She asked me where we stand.” He says as he rubs at the back of his neck, confliction etched into his features and hard set jawline.

“And you said…?” She prompts. He bows his head in shame.

“I didn’t say anything.” Bellamy groans in frustration. “I was too nervous.”

“Oh, Bell.” She sympathizes. “Love makes you do stupid shit sometimes. And so do pretty girls.”

_Especially pretty girls with emerald orbs, soft hair, and the most breathtaking smile. Come on, Griffin. Focus!_

She finds herself smiling at the thought of green eyes. He tries his hardest to return a smile, but the joke falls flat.

She shifts to face him head on. “Look, Bellamy, you and Ray have been sleeping together for over a year now. Raven isn’t dumb. She has to know that it can’t just be sexual. At least deep down, anyway. No one would believe that at this point.” She notes, noticing how the corners of his lips tug upwards at the words.

“No, they wouldn’t.” He confesses quietly. “And it’s not.”

“So what’s the problem?” She leans forward, lowering the volume of the television to focus her attention on her friend.

Bellamy picks at a fraying string in the couch’s upholstery with a shrug. “The commitment, I guess.”

“The commitment?” She repeats, baffled. “You haven’t been with anyone since you two started this.” She points out.

“It’s not that, I just…” He runs a hand over his face, dragging over his features and freckles. “I don’t want to risk this.” His knee starts to jitter again and the blonde stills him once again. “If we make this real, it means I can’t screw up.” Bellamy admits.

“I really care about her, Clarke.” He confesses.

Clarke just smiles fondly at the declaration. She’s happy for him, truly. She only wishes her own love life would fall into place this easily.

“O’s the only one I’ve ever really been committed to.” He diverts. “In a familial way, of course.” He catches himself.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Wasn’t even thinking that.” She teases. “But thanks for the nasty visual.”

“Shut up.” He barks, but smiles nonetheless.

Bellamy, when they were growing up, had always been a bit of a player, much like Clarke’s behavior as of lately. He was always running from his problem, not wanting to get involved with anyone or anything and avoiding any sort of deep emotions. He held his baby sister above everyone and everything else.

“But she has Lincoln now to look after her. And you’ve changed. Don’t you _want_ to be with Raven?” She suggests.

Raven had been good for Bellamy. She refused to take his shit, stood her ground, and constantly challenged him. She never let him get away with anything and called him out whenever necessary. She was strong willed and strong minded. And over time, their relationship had grown into something more, pushing each other to be tougher, wiser, and better than if they had just been left on their own.

“I want to,” He sighs. “But, what if I screw up? If I hurt her?”

She can’t help but draw parallels to her current situation.

“What if I hurt her like Wick did? I don’t want to be like him.” Bellamy points out. “He was horrible for her and _to_ her.”

“You just…” Blue eyes dart to the brunette in the kitchen. “Sometimes a person is just worth taking that chance.” She advises with sincerity. “But for the record, _you_ aren’t Wick.” She insists. “You wouldn’t do that to her.”

His deep brown eyes are genuine as he acknowledges her with a nod of agreement.

“Bell,” she prefaces. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?” He swallows.

“Do you love her?” She inquires seriously.

“I…” She can practically hear the gulp in his throat.

“Just answer the question.” She chides gently.

“Well, yes.” He affirms. “But we said this was strictly physical.”

“Screw what you said.” She rolls her eyes lightheartedly. “That was a year ago. Focus on the now.” She insists, trying to get him to see from a new perspective.

“You’ve changed. _Both_ of you. And you know that this ‘thing,’” She makes air quotes as she speaks. “that you have going on isn’t just about sex. It hasn’t been for a while.”

The boy threads his fingers through his hair with a grimace.

“Answer this: Who’s the first person you think of when you wake up?” She asks.

“Raven.” He says confesses bashfully.

“And before you fall asleep?” She raises a brow knowingly.

“Raven…” He admits again, a light pink hue flooding his cheeks, dotted by scattered freckles.

“You have your answer.” She says wisely. “Just make it official. We’ve all been waiting.” She elbows him playfully.

“When did you get so smart? And romantic?” He gives her a grateful smile.

“Fuck you.” She gives his arm a light smack. “I’ve always been smart.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “That’s true. But romantic?” He says, intrigued. “I thought you were done with feelings.”

_So did I._

The blonde chews her lip before answering. “I had a bit of a revelation.”

“Yeah?” He smiles. “Does this have to do with a certain brunette named Lexa, perhaps?”

“Shut up.” She blushes, throwing her hand over his mouth, casting a glance over her shoulder towards the kitchen, letting out a breath of release when she sees that the three are still busy with making breakfast, a task that somehow got taken away from her.

Bellamy pries her hand away, setting it in her lap before placing an arm around her shoulder, rubbing lightly before giving it a squeeze, the heavy weight of his muscles grounding her into the couch. It feels solid and stable. She’s incredibly grateful for his support and friendship. 

“She would be good for you.” He comments.

“I know.” She bites her lip, stomach flipping as she watches Lexa with a love struck smile plastered goofily to her face.

\---

“Looks like Clarke is becoming a permanent part of you.” Lincoln teases as he looks her up and down with a smug once over, taking in her attire.

_She really has._

“Clarke let me borrow some clothes after last night.” Lexa explains, hoping to keep her voice steady, though she is not oblivious to the way her heart leaps into her throat and her stomach lurches as the mention of the blonde.

“What about Clarke?” Octavia butts in, hip-checking her boyfriend to direct him back to the stove so she can initiate girl talk. She pulls out a stool from the island, motion for Lexa to join her as she leans in eagerly. “Are you two dating or something?”

“What?!” Her eyes widen. “No!”

“Oh.” The peppy brunette seems to deflate. “But she asked you to stay the night?” Her eyes are hopefully.

“It… it’s not what you think.” Lexa holds up her hands in defense.

“No.” Her student smiles. “I know it’s not. It’s just…” She seems to debate whether or not she wants to reveal her next set of words.

“Well, Clarke never asks people to stay over. It’s a rule she about commitment or something that she has.” Octavia explains. “Well, _had_ , I think is a little more appropriate.”

Lexa eyes her curiously, not sure of what to think of the new bit of information.

“It’s really not my place to be talking about this.” The younger brunette shakes her head. “Just know that Clarke really cares about you.” She smiles kindly and Lexa can’t fight the cherry tint of her cheeks.

“I care about her too.” She confesses.

The younger girl reciprocates with a grin before hopping over to assist her boyfriend with distributing their meals, which get eaten far too quickly. Since Lincoln, Octavia, and Bellamy all have normal 9-5 jobs, they had to maintain their schedule, while Clarke and Lexa took their time, savoring the flavorful bits of syrup and fluffy pancake

“After a wild morning like that, it’s kind of quiet now, don’t you think?” Lexa observes, scanning the apartment.

“Wow. Am I not good enough?” Clarke jests, poking her lightly in the forearm. Lexa catches her wrist, causing the blonde to meet her gaze curiously.

“You are more than enough.” Lexa says softly, causing the blonde to flush scarlet.

“Umm.” She clears her throat. “Do you want to hang out today?” Clarke blushes, suddenly sounding rather nervous to ask even though they’ve been doing this for weeks. To be fair, Lexa feels it too. The air around them buzzes with the tension.

“See? We can still hang out even if the painting is done.” Clarke adds. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Right.” Lexa bites her lip, fighting the shared smile the two hardly succeeding at hiding. “Of course not.”

_It has._

“We should probably clean this up.” Lexa notes.

“I’ll do it. You can just chill on the couch and watch some TV or something.” Clarke objects.

“No way.” Lexa counters.

“You’re my guest.” The blonde insists.

“And you’ve been a more than hospitable host already.” The brunette retorts.

Their bickering continues on until they realize the best decision would be to both tag-team it. Somehow, the chore becomes its own sort of game; the two chasing each other around the apartment while competing to see which of them can fill her trash bag quickest. 1 point gets added for each proper item of garbage, and 2 points get deducted if a bottle or can gets misplaced or isn’t recycled. Loser has to sort through it all at the end.

It’s accompanied by bubbling laughter and girlish squealing as they try to sabotage one another, bumping the other out of the way, or in Lexa’s case, tickling the blonde. The giddy feeling she gets from hearing Clarke’s laugh is just a bonus.

The competition ends in a tie and they dump the bags in the allocated garbage disposal areas of the apartment complex, having worked up an appetite from their game.

While Lexa fixes up a quick lunch for them, Clarke spends that time in the studio drafting up ideas for her MPA showcase. They spend the rest of the day on the couch watching TV and just enjoying their time together, curled closely into each other until Lexa unfortunately has to leave to teach her evening yoga session. Even then, her mind drifts back to the events of the day, or lack thereof. It had been a rather uneventful, lazy day. And yet, Lexa is positive it’s her favorite day they’ve spent together by far.

\---

The next few days are not. Most definitely not.

That is, in part, due to the fact that she doesn’t actually see Clarke after Echo and Ontari arrive for the bridesmaids fitting. Anya had arrived with her fiancé’s sisters bright and early so that they could get breakfast before making it to their appointment.

It isn’t that Ontari or Echo are particularly rude people, but they _are_ intense and unfiltered. At times, their bluntness could be mistaken as something offensive. They got on great with Anya for that same reason, but sometimes their behavior overwhelmed Lexa. Now is one of those times.

They had already been to two other boutiques, but each time, they had hit a roadblock. Anya was growing frustrated, Ontari was getting hungry, and Echo’s indifference was actually make it more difficult to decide, rather than easier to.

As such, it brings them to their current situation where Lexa sits in the parlor waiting area with Ontari while Echo and Anya work with the sales associate to pull dress options for the three bridesmaids to try on. It’s a relief to finally get to sit down and when her phone buzzes, she can’t help the smile that spreads across her face, despite the discouraging morning.

_Here’s the dress shopping going? – C_

_Not too well. – L_

_How come? – C_

_Anya is angry. – L_

_Oh, so it’s basically like any other day then? :P – C_

Lexa sniggers to herself, smirking down at the message.

_Careful. I might show her your text. – L_

She decides to ignore the heated discussion coming from the back between Anya and Echo, teasing the blonde on the phone instead. The replies are instant.

_No! I want to live! – C_

_I take it back! – C_

_I’m sorry! – C_

_How can I make it up to you? – C_

The brunette hides a giggle behind her hand as Anya and Echo return with their arms outstretched and a plethora of gowns laid across them.

“Who are you texting?” The younger girl next to her quirks a brow .

Lexa straightens.

“Umm, no one.” She replies, locking her phone.

Her phone vibrates again.

“Doesn’t seem like no one.” Ontari says with disbelief, craning her neck to try to get a peek at Lexa’s phone.

_Lexaaaa!!!!!! Please!!!! – C_

 

The brunette subtly places her hand over the screen as it vibrates two more times and the yoga instructor resists the urge to quickly shoot back a response.

“Just a friend.” She admits, hoping that the vague response would be enough to satiate the brunette’s curiosity and drop the subject. Ontari rolls her eyes with a shrug.  Luckily, the sales woman finishes hanging up their options mumbling something about chiffon and satin being more idea materials over silk or some other fabric that Lexa doesn’t quite catch, still distracted by the buzzing of her phone.

Anya directs Ontari into one of the dressing rooms, pointing to the arrangement of dresses on the hook.

“Ontari, you’re up.” She instructs and the two sisters make their way behind the curtain.

_Omg. I’m about to die, aren’t I?  Anya wants to kill me. – C_

“Are you texting Clarke?” Anya guesses.

“Ooo! Who’s Clarke?” Ontari peeks her head out from behind the curtain. “Oomph!” She suddenly gasps. “Echo! Not so tight!” She whines.

“Stop moving then.” Echo’s grumbling voice can be heard from behind the squirming brunette.

“Like I said, she’s just a friend.” Lexa tries to say as convincingly as possible. The older Azgeda sibling pulls her sister back into the room, adjusting the dress with hushed whispers and the shuffling of fabric. While they get situated, Lexa chances a glance at her phone.

_Should I start writing my will? I want to leave all of my art possessions to Dante Wallace, my guitar and books go to Octavia and Bellamy Blake, and my father’s hat to Lexa Woods. #RIPMe – C_

She chuckles at the melodramatic reaction, remembering a time not too long ago when jokes about dying would make her cringe, but somehow Clarke makes her smile. She finds herself actually able to bask in the humor of the statement, rather than sulk at the solemn exaggeration of it. She equates it to Clarke and her silliness, which normally Lexa would find immature. But Clarke, with her childish, happy-go-lucky personality, coupled with her deep concern and genuine heart, is nothing but endearing.

_You’re so dramatic. – L_

Ontari exits a moment later with Echo trailing behind her. She does a twirl once, holding out her hands for Anya to truly take it in. It’s definitely gold and matches the color scheme for the wedding, but also looks extremely frilly and by the scrunch of her nose, Lexa already knows the answer is going to be

“No.” Anya shakes her head with a flick of her wrist. She gives a nod towards the next dress in line and Echo retrieves it from the hook.

This time the older woman emerges in a long golden gown with a taupe princess cut at the chest.

Anya narrows her gaze, turning to her younger sister for a second opinion.

“The cut is nice, but the colors kind of clash. The gold is just a little too far on the color wheel from the taupe and it kind of looks like the designer was color blind, rather than making the choice intentionally.” The brunette analyzes.

Ontari, having changed out of the first dress, nods impressed.

“Wow, Lexa.” She praises. “I didn’t know you knew that much about colors and art.”

Anya just snorts. “She doesn’t. Clarke does.”

It immediately makes her flush realizing just how much Clarke is rubbing off on her. Lincoln was right.

“Oh.” Ontari nods as Echo goes back into the changing room to remove the dress.  “So. are you seeing anyone after Costia?”

“Oh my god!” Is immediately heard from the dressing room. Echo comes marching out with her dress half unzipped, holding it up by the top area near her breasts with her left hand. Her right quickly goes to her younger sister slapping her upside the head.

“Oww!” Ontari hisses with a glare. “What the fuck?”

“Go change!” Echo demands, pointing to the next dress in the lineup.

Lexa looks at Anya, overwhelmed by the sisters’ method of argument. Echo was even more intense than Anya.

“You’ll have to excuse Ontari.” Echo apologizes, turning to Lexa. “My sister is dumb and…” She raises her voice loud enough for Ontari to hear. “doesn’t know when to _shut up_. It’s like she has zero filter, 100% of the time.” 

“It’s okay.” Lexa assures. “No, Ontari.” Lexa calls out. “I’m not.”

Ontari pulls back the curtain to send her sister a deadly stare before Echo flips her off with a smirk, returning to her own dressing room.

The brunette slumps in her chair, releasing an exhausted sigh. Anya flops down in the seat next to her.

“So, what’s the problem?” The blonde asks.

“Well, I think since Ontari is shorter, most of the dresses don’t fit her the same way they do on Echo and I. And the different shades of gold are…”

“I don’t wanna talk about that.” Anya shakes her head.

“An,” Lexa leans closer, placing a reassuring hand on her sister’s knee. “I know this is really stressful, but we’re here to help you. It’s your big day. Don’t overthink it. We just want you to pick something that _you_ like. We’ll wear anything.”

“That’s because you look good in everything.” Her sister scoffs. “And I don’t overthink. That’s your job. I wasn’t even talking about this.” She waves her hand nonchalantly as she gestures to the remaining few dresses. “I meant with you and Clarke.”

The brunette blinks. A problem with her and Clarke? She wasn’t aware that there was one. Everything felt pretty right to her.

“I don’t overthink. And there is no problem.” Lexa insists. “We’re good friends.” She says.

“Mhmm. Sure.”   Anya rolls her eyes so hard Lexa worries they’ll get stuck. “If that’s the case, here.” The blonde reaches into her purse, withdrawing a stiff piece of cardstock with metallic gold trim.

“Why are you giving me this?” Lexa asks, befuddled by the invitation in her hand.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to overthink it.” Her sister sasses.

“But I know when the wedding is.”

“It’s not for you.” Anya flicks her, obviously picking up the influence from Echo just a moment ago.

“Oww!” Lexa whines.

“Invite Clarke to be your date.”

“What?” Lexa chokes. “I can’t… we are…”

Anya gives her a pointed look just as Echo and Ontari reappear back in their normal clothing.

“So, what’s next?”

“Yeah Lexa, what’s next?” Her sister says subtly.

The brunette bites her tongue, quickly grabbing the next gown and retreating into the dressing room. From inside, she can still hear Anya cackling.

It doesn’t stop until she returns to the trio, displaying the shining gold fabric with black lace neckline.

“Oh, come on!” Anya throws her hands up in the air. “You _would_ look this good.”

Lexa blushes.

“Take it off.” Anya instructs. “Before I feel inadequate about myself in my wedding dress.”

“You’re not going to look inadequate.” Lexa laughs.

The blonde squints playfully. “Says you.” She brushes off. “Echo, Ontari, you two try it on.”

They end up reserving three of them and getting alteration measurements taken.

Lexa lets out a sigh of relief. On to the next task.

\---

_Anya is about two seconds from canceling the wedding and eloping in Vegas. – L_

_You think I’m joking. But she’s dead serious right now. – L_

_That bad, huh? So no dress then? – C_

_Actually, I have my dress. – L_

_Really? No alterations? – C_

_Nope. Just got the one off the mannequin modeling it and it fit like a glove. – L_

_That’s because your body is perfect. – C_

She freezes, smacking herself in the forehead for being so thirsty.

_Sorry. Ignore that. – C_

_Thank you. You’re sweet. – L_

The text makes her cheeks grow warm.

“Tell Lexa I said hi.” Octavia says, startling the blonde from where she had been so engrossed in her phone.

“Stop eavesdropping.” Clarke berates.

“That isn’t a verbal conversation.” Octavia rolls her eyes, tilting her head toward the device in Clarke’s phone. “You can’t eavesdrop.”

“Then how did you know I was talking to Lexa?” Clarke accuses.

“Because you’re _always_ talking to Lexa. Simple deductive reasoning.” Her roommate shrugs. “If you’re not together in person, you’re still texting or on the phone.”

“Are not!” The artist flushes at the brunette’s all-too-accurate observation.

Octavia giggles at her reaction. “Hey, Lincoln and I are planning on going on a camping trip next week with Bell and Ray. Looks like they worked things out.” Her roommate explains.

Clarke smiles knowingly, happy for her friend’s successful relationship.

“You should invite Lexa to come. Maybe Anya could take Roan too if he isn’t traveling for work again.”

Clarke knows for a fact that he isn’t, Lexa had told her as much. She and Roan were actually going to pick up wedding favors, get suit measurements with the groomsmen, and run a few extra errands together.

“I don’t know, O. They’re all couples.” She shrugs. “Lexa and I are just friends.”

Octavia studies her. It’s almost comical to see her roommate so serious and for a moment, Clarke almost laughs.

“Yet.” The brunette says. “You’ve already shared a bed. You can share a tent. It’s not a big deal. The worst thing she can say is ‘no’ if she’s already busy. But I bet she, Anya, and everyone else, could all use a break from the wedding planning.” Octavia points out.

“Alright.” Clarke resolves. “I’ll give her a call later.”

“Yay!” Octavia claps, launching herself at the blonde and pulling her into a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re so whipped for this girl.” She teases. “I could never get you to go camping otherwise.”

“Hey!” Clarke gapes, realizing the brunette’s trickery, and truthfulness.

_Damn, Griffin. She sniped you._

Her roommate gives a smug grin, puffing her chest proudly. Clarke hits her with a pillow, but her heart skips at the idea of a potential getaway with Lexa, surrounding herself in shades of green and beauty.

\---

“I’d love to!” The brunette chirps into the phone. “Just let me check with Anya.” She explains. “She’s pretty overwhelmed with everything, but you’re right. We could definitely use a break.”

“And you’re okay with the tent situation?” Clarke inquires just in case.

“Maybe.” The brunette challenges. “That depends.”

_Is she flirting?_

“On what?” The blonde prompts.

“Are we cuddling?” Lexa asks playfully.

_She’s definitely flirting._

 “Definitely.” The artist response with a grin.

“Good.” Lexa says and Clarke can hear the smirk in her reply.

“Good.” Clarke parrots back.

“Okay.” The brunette says.

“Okay.” Clarke repeats.

There’s a giggle in her ear and Clarke purposefully turns the volume up until it fades.

“Lexa is the best.” Lexa says.

“Lexa is the best.” Clarke says, not missing a beat.

The brunette laughs. “Okay, enough of that.” She says with finality. “I have an invitation for you as well.”

“Oh?” The blonde quirks her brow, interest piqued. “And what’s that?”

“Are you home right now?” The brunette asks.

“I am.” Clarke affirms.

“Great.” Lexa says vaguely.

There’s a knock on the apartment door and Clarke groans.

“Hey, Lex. Hold on a sec. Someone’s at the door.” She explains, putting her cell phone on the kitchen counter, skidding to a halt in front of the apartment entrance, tiptoeing to look in the peep hole.

“Lexa?” She says with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

The brunette’s lips quirk to the side. “Inviting you, of course.”

“To?”

“Anya’s wedding.” The brunette explains, holding out an envelope.

Clarke tilts her head in confusion as she opens it to find a cardstock wedding invitation. “You already know I was invited.” The blonde says.

“You were invited as a guest.” Lexa clarifies. “I…” she pauses shyly, green eyes sparkling.  She straightens, looking Clarke directly in the eye. “Clarke, I wanted to invite you as my date.”

“Oh.” Clarke’s eyes widen and she feels her face grow hot. “Okay.” She beams, a tooth-rotting grin spreading across her face.

“Okay?” Lexa says with twinkling eyes, her own features following suit with a grin.

“Okay.” Blue yes shine back.

“Are we really doing this again?” The brunette laughs.

“Yes.” Clarke nods insistently. “But it’ll be better this time.” She says, referring back to their first formal date that ended less than favorably for both parties.

“You can say it. I was a complete dick back then.” Clarke admits.

“Not a _complete_ dick.” Lexa says with understanding. “You were good for the majority of the evening. It was just towards the end when things got a bit umm, messy.” She justifies.

“You can say that again.” The artist agrees.

“You were hurt.” Lexa says, softening. She reaches out to grasp Clarke’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “But I know you now. We’re okay.” She alleviates.

Clarke looks at her warily, still afraid to get her hopes up.

“You do believe me, right?” Lexa asks. “You trust me like I trust you?”

Clarke gives a bashful nod.

“Good.” Lexa whispers, hovering closer.

“Good.” Clarke replies just as gently.

Her gaze falls to soft lips and for a moment, Lexa’s do too. Emerald eyes twinkle. Waiting.

_Just go for it, Griffin. You’re gonna miss your chance if you…_

“Umm,” The brunette shivers. “I should probably get going.” She says.

_What did I tell you?_

“Ontari and Echo are still at Anya’s and I’m not being a very good Maid of Honor by ditching them.”

“Oh, of course.” Clarke nods. “I mean, not of course to you being a good Maid of Honor. I mean, a bad Maid of Honor. I meant that you’re a good Maid of Honor. You're a good everything.... wait. I just mean that…”

Her idiotic rambling is rewarded by the brunette stepping forward, placing soft kiss to her lips, cutting her off. Clarke is stunned and the blonde barely manages to reciprocate before the brunette pulls away. Everything tingles.

"I..." she stutters. "I..." 

The brunette giggles again, pecking her cheek once more. "You're cute." She smiles endearingly.

"You..." Is all Clarke manages to sputter in her awestruck wonder. Green eyes sparkle, tucking a stray hair behind Clarke's ear. 

“Goodnight, Clarke.” Lexa bids her farewell with a softness to her tone that wraps itself around the blonde, filling her with warmth.

“Goodnight, Lexa.” Clarke finally manages to get her mouth to work again. But other than that, she's unable to get her jelly legs to move until the brunette has descended down the staircase and has vanished out of sight. She spends the rest of the night tracing the outline of her lips, remember the press of soft, warm skin against them.


	20. A Series of New Adventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two deal with the aftermath of the kiss. (Pretty well, if we're being completely honest.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is gross and full of fluff because they deserve it.

They don’t talk about the kiss. In fact, they barely get to talk at all with Lexa being so busy hosting her two future sisters-in-law. She starts to wonder if it even happened at all or if maybe her subconscious had been projecting the whole time and she had imagined the press of petal soft lips, lavender scented perfume, and the delicate caress of fingertips across her cheek as they tucked her hair behind her ear. _No. It couldn’t be._

Clarke knows she shouldn’t fret. But she really wants to discuss _it. Them._ The lack of communication unwarrantedly causes her to worry that maybe Lexa had thought the entire thing was a mistake. Deep down, she knows there’s a good chance she’s just overreacted. But _still_ …

A part of her wants to make sure that Lexa has no doubts about her intentions. She needs to ensure that the brunette realizes her feelings are genuine and that she’s ready to make the effort. To make the first move, even. As long as her stupid, thirsty brain doesn’t turn into mush around the green-eyed goddess, of course.

The next time they get to see each other isn’t until she has packed up her bag for the weekend and flings it unceremoniously into the back of Lincoln’s truck along with four tents and the rest of her roommate’s belongings.

They had split responsibilities amongst the group. Her roommate’s boyfriend was put in charge of providing tents and set up. Other roles were allocated to the Woods sisters and Roan for food and drink supplies. Clarke and Octavia paid for gas and transportation. And finally, Raven and Bellamy were in charge of gear, tech, blankets and all other miscellaneous items.

It’s humid outside when the three vehicles finally make it to the campground and Clarke is thankful that her untamed hair is tucked securely under the snapback on her head as she climbs out of the backseat. Her eyes quickly land on the brunette standing by the familiar red Jeep. Lexa is in the middle of braiding her hair into a long, single French braid that rests on her shoulder. It’s simple, but the beauty of the woman makes Clarke’s breath hitch, cheeks tinting a crimson bright enough to rival the vehicle Lexa stands next to. As if Lexa hears her catch of breath, the brunette turns to meet her gaze, and the blonde offers a shy wave. Lexa, hands currently occupied with her hair, responds back with a full-blown smile and a wink that makes Clarke’s heart skip.

The band of friends unite in the middle of the campsite, picking out a nice area of even ground to start assembling their tents, or rather, the men being gentlemen do, while the five other women start to unload all of the other bags and gear to begin with setting up the smaller items.

“Hey.” Clarke finally manages to get a word in after the group gets sorted into task forces. She and Octavia have just finished up building the fire while the Woods siblings are sorting through their meals; having been placed in charge of food. This, admittedly, had been due to the fact that Clarke apparently couldn’t be trusted around snacks and Raven was strangely obsessed with fire or anything that could potentially cause permanent physical damage to the environment around them.

The brunette turns at the sound of her voice and the movement sways her braid perfectly over her shoulder in the process. Clarke swallows thickly. They had been in the same position a few months ago, but the blonde had been too shallow, her one-track mind too distracted by a toned ass a fit, long legs.

_You’re still distracted by those things, dumbass._

_Shut up!_

But now, things are different. Now, she’s invested and though there’s no denying that Lexa’s body is definitely captivating, there is also an incredibly beautiful part of her that Clarke has fallen even more in love with.

“Hello, Clarke.” Lexa blushes as she hunches over one of their supply bags, zipper peeling apart slowly where it’s held between her index finger and thumb. “Wanna help me start cooking lunch? You can be sous-chef?” She bites her lip to hide her smile, both of them knowing that the blonde is actually the more talented cook of the two, though she keeps it under wraps.

“Absolutely.” She grins, crouching down to sort through their various options.

“There are beef patties in the cooler.” Lexa explains as Clarke retrieves them. It’s only then that she realizes those burgers will be their only fresh meal for the weekend, while the rest of their diet will consist of dried jerky, canned beans, chili, corn, peas, carrots, and a few types of bread.

“Are these as good as Five Guys?” She asks, watching the memory flash before the brunette’s green orbs.

Lexa smiles. “Hopefully better this time.”

“Better.” Clarke repeats, the two sharing a moment as they continue to sift through their stash of food. When they get to the bottom, the blonde catches sight of a familiar red and white label, fighting back a smile as she turns the can in her hand, holding the label out for the brunette to see.

“Shh.” Lexa places a finger over her mouth with a mischievous smirk. “There’s only a few of them for you.” She conspires. “We’ll hide them in our tent later.” She says while Clarke feels the inside of her chest expand.

“Secret’s safe with me.” Clarke nudges her playfully but the touch between them feels electric, both of their cheeks matching in the same rosy tone.

“What’s taking you two so long?” Octavia calls out from the fire pit.

“We should probably…”

“Yeah I…”

They both say at the same time, sheepishly agreeing as they inch their way over to her roommate who’s waiting impatiently as she perches on a stump near the crackling flames. Octavia has a set of pots already prepared to be filled with their lunch as she taps her foot irritably. They stir up a few veggies while Clarke flips the burgers, the smell wafting into the warm summer breeze, making her stomach rumble. When they round up the gang, the boys brush off their hands, and the rest of the group circles around the fire with their canteens and granola bars.

“So, we’re thinking of going out for a hike after lunch now that the tents are set up.” Bellamy says, taking a bite of the jerky that Raven breaks off to split with him. He gives her a grateful ‘thank you’ smiling like a damn lovesick fool. She immediately finds herself looking at Lexa the same way.

“I could be down for that.” Octavia pipes in, turning to the blonde. “Clarke, you in?”

The blonde blinks, having only partially paid any attention to the conversation, mouth preoccupied with stuffing the cheesy burger into her mouth while her eyes had been glued on the delicate way Lexa holds her burger between her fingers.

“Yo! Griffin!” Anya kicks some dirt in her direction, a few chunks getting stuck in her laces. “Pay attention.” The older woman scolds with a snort as she watches Clarke cower back.

“An, stop it.” Lexa rolls her eyes. “She likes you.” The brunette leans in to assure her with a soft whisper, just out of earshot of her sister, who has now occupied her attention with her fiancé.

“She just doesn’t _like_ that she likes you.” Lexa continues.

Clarke mutters a quick “doubtful” before shaking her head.

“I think I’ll pass on the hike. I’ve only got so much energy stored up for this weekend. I’ve got to spend it wisely.” She says seriously, patting her stomach with her right hand.

The brunette to her side giggles while Octavia just shrugs, leaning into her boyfriend. She stares around the circle enviously, a tension building as she resists the urge to groan in jealousy of all of the couples expressing their affection for one another. She feels, more than sees, Lexa tense as well beside her, clearly noticing the same.

“Me too, actually.” The yoga instructor adds a second later, a sort of stiffness to her voice.

“Lexa, really?” Lincoln gasps teasingly. “Clarke! What have you done to my friend?” He jokes, though there’s a kindness in his eyes. He looks subtly between the two before throwing his arm securely around Octavia’s shoulders.

“She’s my friend too!” Clarke plays along.

“You only met her through me!” Octavia chimes in, picking up on the banter.

Lexa bubbles up into an airy giggle.

“I promise I’ll go on the next hike. But I actually have my own reasons, not equated to laziness.” The brunette smirks as Clarke’s jaw drops. Her green eyes twinkle as she continues, but she gives Clarke a gentle nudge to assure her it’s all in jest.

“I kind of wanted to go find the lake and sit by the water for a bit. Maybe meditate, do some yoga…” She trails off as she lists the possibilities.

Octavia nods. “Yeah, that one definitely won’t be joining you for that then.” She points a finger at Clarke.

“Hey!” The blonde exclaims indignantly. “I resent that. In fact, I’m becoming quite the yoga guru.” She defends. “Tell em, Lexa!”

“Of course, Clarke. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” The brunette pats her knee mockingly as the entire circle breaks into chuckles.

She doesn’t even mind though, because after they settle and the laughter dies down, Lexa’s hand remains firmly in place and Clarke notices the slightest hint of pink in her cheeks as she continues to finish up her meal.

After lunch, the brunette finds a secluded area by the lake to perch on one of the large rocks, smoothed out by the lap of the water. The blonde had intended to draw a little and hopefully speak privately with the brunette. With everyone around, now is her first chance at privacy. But as she approaches, realizing how peaceful the brunette looks in the serene landscape, she feels as though she’s intruding and quickly turns, only to stumble over a fallen branch, the wood breaking apart in the placidity with what feels like an ear-splitting crack.

“So you decided to join after all.” The brunette says without opening her eyes.

“How’d you know it was me?” Clarke asks astonished, if not incredibly impressed. 

“I didn’t.” Lexa inhales for beat, holding it as Clarke counts out three seconds in her head, before exhaling. “Just hoped.” She says, eyes fluttering open.

“Oh.” Clarke blushes, watching the corner of the brunette’s mouth quirk upwards. “I umm, I was going to sketch the scenery.” The blonde explains, the magnificence of green overwhelming her for a moment. “Umm, is that okay?”

“Of course.” Lexa nods, features relaxed. “Please.” She gestures to the space beside her on the bank. The blonde takes a moment to get herself and her supplies situated, flipping her sketch pad to a clean sheet of paper. Her wrist flicks skillfully as she makes long, quick strokes over the page, roughly outlining the clusters of trees and the reflections dispersed across the lake’s clear surface. Her eyes dart back and forth between the landscape and the tablet in her lap. About a dozen exchanges, later, she notices Lexa peeking her eye open again.

“Umm, is this bothering you?” She asks as her hand stills and the scratch against the page ceases to exist.

“No.” The brunette shifts. “I just like watching you work.” She admits, chewing the inside of her cheek.

“Okay.” The blonde flushes. “As long as it’s not distracting.”

“Oh, it is.” Lexa smiles. “But it’s a welcome distraction.” She flirts.

The blonde nearly drops her sketch pad in her flustered state. “Look, Lexa…” She clears her throat. “About the kiss. I…”

Her words get cut off by a rustling in the brush behind them, causing her to suddenly go silent, both girls straighten, pausing abruptly.

“Uhh, Lexa?” Clarke rasps, eyes trained on the bush as she pivots closer to the brunette. “What are the possibilities of that being a snake?” She asks warily.

“Snakes aren’t that loud.” Lexa says, already crouching up to stand. She takes a cautious step towards the source of the sound and Clarke feels as though she’s been tossed into a horror movie and their demise is quickly descending upon them for walking _towards_ the potential source of danger.

“Lexa!” Clarke hisses, internally panicking. “It could be a bear!”

“Bears don’t live at these levels of altitude.” The brunette reasons, taking another step closer. “Besides, it’s a public campground. There’s no way the park rangers would allow people stay here if there were bears.” She justifies, shifting closer, careful to avoid the branches on the ground by her feet.

“Lexa!” The blonde yelps as a small, fuzzy creature darts frantically from behind the bush, rushing between Clarke’s legs. At the touch of fur against her shin, she rushes to the brunette, grasping her arm instinctively as she catches the telltale pattern of grey and black ascending rapidly up a tree. The reaction renders a laugh from the all-too-calm brunette at her side.

“Aww.” Lexa coos. “Not a fan of baby raccoons?” The instructor nudges her side and Clarke flinches in response to the ticklish sensation in her ribs.

“Stahhpp!” She groans in embarrassment, burying her face in her hands. “I wasn’t scared. I was just taken off guard.” She defends, attempting to redeem herself.

“Mhmm.” The brunette smirks. “Just like the snakes.”

“No.” She replies petulantly. “ _Not_ like the snake!”

“There, there.” Lexa chuckles, rubbing her back in a sarcastically soothing manner. “I’ll protect you, little one.” She readjusts Clarke’s hat with a pat to her head in exaggeration. Delicate fingers wrap around her wrist, tugging her hands away from shielding her reddened cheeks. “I know what will make it better.” She smiles, pulling the blonde back towards the lake.

She retrieves Clarke’s sketchpad from where it had been left on the bank, placing it neatly on the rock she had been sitting on before proceeding to strip.

_Fuck!_

_What is this?_

_Shit._

_Look away, Griffin! Look away!_

She hopelessly tries to will herself to behave, tearing her gaze away with such monumental effort, she deserves an award for it.

“Clarke?” The brunette asks and the blonde chances a glance at the gorgeous figure in just a black sports bra and matching black underwear.

“You coming?”  She starts to wade into the water, nodding at Clarke’s still dressed form.

_Yes. So hard._

“Um, Lexa.” She squeaks. “What are you doing?” She asks, lungs fighting for even the slightest bit of oxygen.

“You want to prove that you’re brave, right?” The brunette muses. “Come on then, I’m going to teach you how to swim.”

Clarke’s eyes widen. “I…” She hesitates, hands hovering over the hem of her own t-shirt and the button on her pants.

“Let’s go, Ms. I’ve Never Skinny Dipped before.” The brunette sing-songs, dipping low into the water until only her collarbone and above can be seen.

Clarke’s eyes immediately betray her, following the sight.

“I’m already cutting you a break since we’re in public.” Lexa cocks a brow, challengingly.  “Otherwise, we’d be naked.”

_FUUUUCCCKKK!!!!!!_

Mustering up every bout of strength, she relents, ridding her clothes and placing it on the rocks by Lexa’s as she slinks towards the shore, the soft pull of the waves coming up to lap at her toes.

“A little further.” Lexa encourages, swimming back towards her, holding out a hand as drops of water trail down her abs and if Clarke’s grip is a bit too tense, Lexa doesn’t say anything. Instead, she pulls her deeper into the lake until her chest meets the crest of the water.

“There you go.” She beams. “Now lift your feet off the ground and start kicking them.” She instructs.

Clarke does as she’s told, treading for a few seconds before having to place her legs back onto the ground, standing above the water.

“Nice.” Lexa nods in approval. “Now add your arms like this.” She explains, demonstrating  the proper movement.

Clarke tries to do as she’s told, but quickly finds herself sinking. Lexa instinctively moves towards her, catching the blonde before her mouth can fill with the water, arms secured around her waist.

“Good effort.” Lexa encourages with a patient smile.

“Yeah right.” Clarke rolls her eyes, “I told you, I can’t swim.”

“You’re really not that bad.” Lexa says, unfazed by her stubbornness. “Just need a little more practice.” She says, giving Clarke’s hips a squeeze.

It’s then that she realizes their position, her arms wrapped around the brunette’s neck as she holds her afloat. And the amount of clothing between them… or rather, lack thereof.

_Come on, Griffin. Make a move!_

“You’re not bad yourself.” She replies confidently.

The brunette chuckles, shaking her head lightly. “Focus.” She scolds, scrunching up her nose in disapproval, though Clarke can see the rosy hue in her cheeks.

“Let’s see if you can do this again.” She says, wading deeper into the water. “Let yourself relax.” She says, relinquishes her hold around the blonde just in time for her to sputter water in the air, splashing about. Slender arms swiftly return to her sides while rich laughter rings out into the silence of the lake.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment.” The blonde huffs at the smirking brunette. “I’m so glad you find my misery amusing.”

“Just a little.” The brunette jokes.

“Well,” Clarke frowns. “I can’t help it if I like it better on the ground.” She grumps.

She realizes the insinuated innuendo when Lexa cocks a brow with a devious grin.

“Okay, listen.” She narrows her gaze, rolling her eyes playfully, their position compromising her ability to _truly_ remain serious. “I stick to the ground. I enjoy having my feet balanced on the ground. It’s nature. I’m a _grounder_.” She emphasizes, trying to reassert herself.

“ _That_ is not a real word.” Lexa chuckles.

“Yes it is!” Clarke insists. “In baseball.”

“Yeah?” Lexa smirks. “And what base are you trying to get to, exactly?” She humors as her arms readjust to hold the blonde tighter. It’s comforting and Clarke wraps her legs around Lexa’s waist in response.

“Hmm.” She teases. “I think I’m pretty content with this one, actually.” She returns smugly, allowing the cheeky brunette to carry her as they wade around the lake, water helping her remain buoyant.

A comfortable silence falls between them as Clarke presses her forehead to Lexa’s, content in just looking into her eyes.

\---

They remain in that position until Lexa feels Clarke begins to shiver in her arm, the body heat between them slowly getting pulled away with the current.

“We should probably change into some warmer clothes.” Lexa suggests, carrying the blonde back to shore. When her feet hit the bank, she wobbles slightly, but the brunette easily catches her before she can trip. She giggles, slipping their hands together, gathering their belongings within their free grasp, proceeding to walk hand-in-hand back to the campsite.

“You go ahead.” Clarke gestures to their shared tent, not wanting to pressure the brunette into changing at the same time.

“You sure?” Lexa asks, eyeing the blonde’s goose bump covered skin.

“Yeah.” Clarke assures. “Go ahead.”

“Okay.” Lexa nods. “I’ll be quick.”

True to her word, the brunette emerges in a large pullover, leggings, slipping back into her sneakers. While she waits for Clarke, she decides to lounge on the hammock Anya and Roan had been setting up before they left for the hike. Her eyes flutter closed as she soaks up the sun, hands propped behind her head.

She feels a miniscule shift in the sway of the hammock before the press of feminine curves fall upon her. Everything happens in a flash from there. The fabric swings sharply, causing her to tumble out, a body falling atop of her in the process.

“ _Shit_.” She hears the blonde rasp. “Are you okay?” Clarke immediately rolls off of her, eyes full of concern.

“Yeah.” Lexa props herself up on her elbows. “Umm, what was that about?”

“Sorry.” Clarke frowns. “It seems a lot cuter in the movies.” She pouts, cheeks burning. “And a lot easier.” She grumbles.

Instead of annoyance, Lexa just beams, liking the weight of Clarke’s chest against hers as they share a moment of laughter.  She feels _alive._ Costia was calm, stable, and gentle. But Clarke is different. In her own way; a good, silly, lively way. Lexa _loves_ it.

When the giggling subsides, she feels a shift. Before she knows it, Clarke is leaning forward and pink lips are kissing her. She’s momentarily stunned, body stiffening, and Clarke immediately pulls away.

“I shouldn’t have…” She flushes, the conflict evident in her features. Lexa knows she’s probably worried that she’s overstepped like at the gallery, but she wants this. She _wants_ it to be Clarke.

“I’m so sorry. We never talked about the last…” The blonde continues to ramble.

Lexa doesn’t let her continue with her doubts, cupping Clarke’s face with both hands and kisses her again. She feels the blonde relax, the slightest smile pressing against her own as their lips move in sync. It’s gentle and comforting, their touch gradually growing more sure as they progress. She feels her heart starting to race and butterflies erupting from deep in her stomach.

“Please don’t apologize.” The brunette says, when they finally break apart.

 Clarke’s eyes are still shut as Lexa licks her lips, grabbing the blonde’s hand and pressing the trembling palm to her own chest. Brilliant blue explodes from behind her eyelids, catching in the sun and Lexa’s heart skips.

“Especially not for doing this to me.”  She presses her hand over Clarke’s, allowing her to feel the rapid thrumming of her heart.

The blonde grins, leaning in for another mind reeling kiss.

“So this is okay?” Clarke asks again once they break apart.

“Definitely.” Lexa smiles. “But I’d much rather we not do this on the ground.”

“I told you, I’m a _grounder_.” Clarke jokes.

“Get off.” The brunette just laughs, pushing them both up to stand. They readjust on the hammock, climbing in much more gracefully during their second attempt. Clarke gets in first as Lexa maneuvers next to her, enjoying the intimacy between them as they cuddle under the sun. They stay this way until a pressure in Lexa’s bladder forces her to reluctantly untangle herself from the warm press of skin to take care of Mother Nature’s call.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” She says, placing a quick kiss on the blonde’s forehead. “Holler if you need me.”

She barely makes it ten yards away when Clarke’s desperately piercing scream rings out less than a minute later. The brunette startles at the sound.

“Clarke?!” She immediately turns on her heels in frenzy. “What?! Is everything okay?” She rushes back, skidding to a halt, almost colliding into the blonde in the process.

“Yup.” The blonde says with a satisfied grin, standing proudly beside the hammock. “Just checking to see if you were being serious.”

Green eyes roll to the back of her head. “You’re such a dork.” She laughs, pressing the rim of her snapback over her eyes, before turning to go back down the trail.

“Lexa, wait.” The blonde grabs her wrist, tugging lightly, hat now back in place.

The brunette tilts her head in confusion, noticing the vulnerable expression on the blonde’s face; a complete contrast to the cocky expression from before. She drops her wrist, wringing her hands in her t-shirt.

“Clarke?” Lexa prompts, observing the wary blonde.

“I… I really _do_ need you.” The artist confesses, casting her focus to the ground.

Lexa feels her heart flutter, softening as she blushes. She takes a step forward, tilting the blonde’s chin up to meet her gaze. “You have me, Clarke.” She promises, wrapping her arms around the girl in front of her. It’s nothing but tender and gentle, simply to reassure her that she’s ready for whatever they may be, or may become.

They spend the rest of the afternoon in sway of the hammock, lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking.

\---

“We’re back, bitches!” Her roommate’s shrill cry warns them of the approaching hikers.

Lexa is up in an instant while Clarke takes a little longer, yawning once as she stretches out.

“How was the hike?” Lexa asks, before noticing Bellamy carrying Raven on his back, the Latina’s face etched in pain.

“Is everything alright?” She asks.

“Yeah.” Bellamy nods. “Ray’s got a weak knee and it decided to give out so we figured it would be best to come back earlier.”

“Here,” Clarke pipes in from beside her. “Take the hammock.” She offers. Bellamy assists her into a lying position the fabric. He then climbs, careful not to bump her as he hooks one foot beneath him, perching next to Raven’s leg, massaging it lightly.

Lexa smiles in adoration at the couple, as Clarke subconsciously shuffles closer to her side.

“Okay. What’s up with you two?” Her student’s voice interrupts the moment. “Clarke has been acting weird all week, and now you are too.” Octavia places her hands on her hips. “Are you two fighting again or something? Because I swear to God if…”

“Hey, O. It’s okay.” Clarke immediately calms her down. “We’re not fighting. Far from it.”

“Right.” Lexa affirms. “We’re getting along quite nicely, actually.” She flashes a smile in the blonde’s direction and they share a smirk.

“Oohhkay.” Octavia eyes them skeptically. “I’m gonna figure out whatever it is you’re hiding eventually.” She shrugs before skipping off to find her boyfriend.

“That girl goes from zero to 180 in a second.” Clarke chuckles, shaking her head.

“And you don’t?” Lexa accuses teasingly.

“I can.” The blonde wiggles her brow seductively, spinning around completely to give the brunette a view of her backside, attempting to twerk obnoxiously.

The brunette chortles, shaking her head as she light-heartedly scolds “dork.” The blonde simply sticks her tongue between her teeth, squinting her eyes before lifting her hat, taking a bow. She then places it on Lexa’s head before wandering off to spend some time with her the rest of the group while Lexa goes to catch up with her sister.

\---

“So what did you two get up to while we were gone?” Anya nods her head towards the blonde currently trying to make some strange sort of gesture, hands flying wildly around her face as she speaks enthusiastically with Raven.

Lexa watches with endearment as the Latina suddenly throws her head back, laughter escaping into the air as Clarke beams proudly and Bellamy gives her a grateful smile in return for making his girlfriend feel better.

“Hello?”  Anya waves her hand up and down in front of Lexa’s field of vision. “Earth to Hearteyes.” Her sister snaps her fingers, drawing the brunette out of her daze.

“Sorry.” She clears her throat. “I spent the afternoon doing some meditation then I tried teaching Clarke to swim.”

“Oh yeah?” The blonde’s brow perks up in interest. “And how did that go?” She gives the blonde an incredulous scan.

“It actually went well.” The brunette admits, hoping that her sister doesn’t ask for any further details.

Instead, the older woman presses her lips tight as she gives a disbelieving nod. “And can she swim now?”

“Umm,” Lexa fiddles with her fingers. “No, not quite.” She admits.

“Well then what kind of shit instructor are you?” Anya rolls her eyes with a mockingly.

Lexa flushes as her sister sniggers in amusement.

“Ohhh, I know!” She straightens, pointing a finger at the brunette. “You were just trying to get her _wet_.” She blurts as Lexa’s jaw plummets to the ground

“Anya!” She gasps while her sister cackles hysterically. Her entire face burns brighter than a tomato, heat creeping up the back of her neck, all the way to the tip of her ears.

“Oh my god! Your face right now!” Anya gasps, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. It’s so completely out of character, yet Lexa can’t bring herself to care. She hasn’t heard Anya laugh like this in so long. And if Clarke, and by extension, herself, were to be the reason for it, then so be it.

She brushes off her sister’s lewd comment, diverting the subject back to the afternoon’s events. “And what about you and Roacky Pokey? How was the hike?”

Her sister immediately glares at the nickname. “Fine. I’ll let that slide since I got your first.” She grunts before looking over at her fiancé, tossing a ball between Bellamy and Lincoln from between the trees.

“It was good, the weather’s nice and the trail wasn’t too harsh from what we were able to get to.” She explains. “We’re probably going to try again tomorrow or something. Give Raven a night to recover and see how she feels.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” She nods. “They’re going to the wedding together, right?” She asks, referring to the Latina who is currently laughing as she pokes the man at her side repeatedly. She watches Bellamy tolerate her antics before grasping her wrist, pulling her upright until they’re face to face. Raven then proceeds to stick her tongue out, licking his nose as he pulls away with a groan, features scrunched in disgust while he wipes off the offending spit with the back of his hand.  The Latina crows in laughter and the freckle faced man soon joins her as well.

“Yeah.” Anya snorts, having also observed the entire exchange. “They’re almost as nasty as you two.”

“Hey!” Lexa frowns. “Clarke and I are not nasty.”

“No.” Her sister agrees. “Just gross.”

The brunette gives her sister a shove. “We aren’t even dating.”

The blonde rolls her eyes. “You two skipped dating and went straight to domestic. You practically live at her place.” Her sister accuses. “And she’s your date to the wedding. _That_ is what normal people call dating.”

Lexa ducks her head knowing that she can’t even deny her sister’s claims.

“Speaking of the wedding.” Lexa revels. “It’s in a month.” She notes. “Can you believe it?”

“Don’t remind me!” Anya groans. “I feel like there’s still so much to do.”

Lexa places a reassuring hand on her sister’s knee. “We’ve pretty much gotten everything taken care of. Dresses should be coming in within the next week. You and Roan already took care of the caterer. I spoke with Maya and Vera, everything’s all set to be delivered and prepped the day before. And the venue deposit was already put down by Nia and Roan weeks ago.” She continues to check off the list mentally in her head. “Everything else, Becca’s handling.”

Anya nods. “Roan told me about the fitting for his tux and that you went along with him and the guys.” The older woman continues. “You didn’t have to.” She says appreciatively.

Lexa smiles, unfazed. “It was fun!” She assures, brushing it off with a wave of her delicate hand. “The gold vests are going to look so classy.” She adds. “Don’t worry, everything for your big day is going to be just _fine_.”

“Yeah…” The blonde trails off dreamily.

“Now look who’s being gross.” Lexa teases, earning herself a noogie and a head full of messy hair.

\---

The group concludes the evening by stargazing into the open night sky. Raven and Bellamy huddle in the hammock, a blanket draped over their legs and sharing a canister of hot chocolate between them. Lincoln finds a tree to sit again, Octavia settled in front of him, between his legs as she leans her back into his chest, strong arms wrapped securely around her waist. Anya and Roan are propped against a fallen log, head resting on his shoulder as they gaze upward. Lexa and Clarke remain on their own blanket, simply lying side by side.

She wants to reach out and clasp their hands together, but she really doesn’t know what to do, or how Lexa would react to a public display of affection. They hadn’t spoken about _what_ they were. She opts for subtle, just barely extending her pinky to rub against the brunette’s wrist. Lexa turns her head slightly, their eyes meeting as they share a soft smile. Suddenly, the stars seem far duller in comparison to the brightness in the girl’s green orbs.

“You tired?” The brunette whispers softly.

Clarke shakes her head, but a yawn escapes from her lips at the suggestion of sleep.

Lexa stifles a giggle behind her hand before pushing herself upright. “I think we’re going to call it a night.” She announces to the group.

A chorus of “goodnights” ring out amongst the band of friends as they shake off their blanket, each one grabbing a corner before walking towards one another to fold it neatly. Lexa tucks it into the corner of their tent while Clarke kicks off her shoes beside it.

The brunette chuckles, straightening them tidily next to her own while Clarke zips up the tent flap. There’s a small lantern inside that Clarke immediately turns on, before turning sheepishly to the brunette.

“Look.” She reveals a large holey leaf that has been chewed up by the insects in the forest.

“Clarke?” Lexa cocks a brow. “Why did you bring that in here?”

The blonde grins. “Close your eyes.” She instructs. The brunette giggles but does as she’s instructed to.

Clarke quickly rearranges the light, holding the leaf just in front of the source, creating different sized specks that reflect all over the interior of the tent.

“We have our own stars.” She grins childishly, as Lexa opens her eyes. Green orbs soak in her makeshift skyline before finally locking with blue crystals.

“Beautiful.” She says simply. The single word causes Clarke’s breath to catch and cheeks to turn pink.

“Cuddle?” She requests innocently.

Lexa chuckles. “Of course.” She obliges, already maneuvering into their nest of sleeping bags and matress topper. 

They arrange themselves into a comfortable position with Clarke’s arm wrapped securely around the brunette’s hip, both women snuggled under the blankets to the point that only their noses and above can be seen.

“Cold feet.” Clarke nudges the brunette.

“What?” Lexa hums sleepily.

“You have cold feet.” The blonde whispers endearingly, loving how easily their limbs had tangled together.

“Not about this. Not about you.” The brunette mumbles, eyes still closed.  She lets out a small kitten-like yawn as she presses her feet against Clarke’s warm shin. Everything in her heart vibrates as she leans forward to press a kiss onto the brunette’s cheek before closing her eyes.

“Goodnight, Lexa.” She breathes.

“Goodnight, Clarke.” The brunette sighs contently.

\---

She’s awaken by an annoying pain in her stomach as she shifts, trying to get comfortable again without disturbing the brunette wrapped around her. Having been used to a high calorie diet and junk food, the switch to bare minimum nutrients and a low caloric intake has put a shock to her system. She tries to get comfortable, noticing how nice it feels to have Lexa’s hand slipped slightly under her shirt, fingers pressed to her skin. She does her best to ignore the hunger and focus on the warm palm against her to her abdominal, but unfortunately, her body has other ideas and the ache quickly gets the best of her; her stomach rumbling in protest loudly.

Lexa inhales sharply before rubbing at her eyes. “I take it back, there are bears here.” She mutters, rubbing her thumb over Clarke’s skin as she cuddles closer. “Quiet down little bear.” She teases with a yawn.

“Sorry.” She apologizes into the darkness. “Go back to sleep.” She tries to convince the brunette but the second time her stomach growls, Lexa is up, tying her hair up into a messy bun as she retrieves her phone. She then proceeds to use the flashlight application to assist her as she squints, eyes adjusting to the brightness while she shuffles through her belongings. Within seconds, she produces a can of Spaghetti-O’s, tossing it in the blonde’s direction.

Clarke pops open the top, the smell of processed tomato and sodium drenched noodles makes her mouth water. Lexa comes back to sit beside her, leaning her body into Clarke’s as she hands her a spoon.

The blonde takes it gratefully as she starts munching away. Lexa switches off the light, resting her head on the artist’s shoulder as she rests her eyes.

“Thank you.” She blushes as Lexa nods with a hum.

She holds the next spoonful out for the brunette, lightly shrugging to get the sleepy woman’s attention.

“Want some?” She asks.

“Bleh.” The brunette’s face squishes up in disgust.

“It’s good.” Clarke insists.

Lexa lets out a puff of air through her nose in disapproval.

“Come on,” She pleads. “Try some.”

“No.” Lexa replies flatly with a grunt.

Clarke knows she should let it go and allow the brunette to rest, but the sleepy, childish pout that she’s sporting is just too cute, so she persists again, pressing the spoon to closed, pillowy lips, quickly pulling back before it gets bat out of her hand.

“Clarke!” Lexa immediately sits up with a yelp, smacking her lips as Clarke fails to suppress her laughter.

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist!” She grins devilishly, finishing off the spoonful of pasta.

“Oh, that’s it!” Green eyes suddenly come to life as lithe fingers snatch the utensil from her hand. She  scoops up her own spoonful, aiming for Clarke’s face.

“No!” She squeals, tripping as she attempts to free her legs from where they’ve been tucked into the sleeping bag. Lexa follows quickly, chasing her around the tent. They look absolutely mad, falling over each other and their belongings in the confined space.

They get so distracted by their foolish antics that they don’t even notice the tent flap opening until the beam of a flashlight scans over them.

“What the…?” Her roommate looks curiously between them. It’s then that Clarke notices a can of shaving cream in her hand and the dark attire that Octavia is wearing.

“What are you doing?” She freezes.

“What are _you_ doing?” The youngest retorts.

“We were having a Spaghetti-O fight.” Lexa explains, grimacing at how ridiculous it sounds.

“Uhh, okay. Cause _that’s_ normal.” Octavia huffs sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.

“You still haven’t told us what you’re doing up.” Clarke points out, ignoring the jab.

“Well, I was gonna prank you. I already got Bell, and I wouldn’t dare do Anya, so you were next on the list.” She smirks, holding up the spray can.

“Psh, you’re gonna have to do better than that.” The blonde challenges lightly.

“Yeah,” Octavia eyes her own can skeptically. “Not sure if I want to. I’d rather have caught a makeout session. That would have been less weird that whatever you’re doing.” She snorts and Clarke feels her face flush.

“Go away!” She groans, taking her spoon and holding it between her fingers, ready to fling the Spaghetti-O’s at the intruder.

The tent flap closes a second later as Lexa lets out a nervous chuckle beside her.

“Well, that was…”

“Yeah.” Clarke rubs the back of her neck awkwardly.

“I haven’t told anyone.” Lexa confesses.

 “Do you want to?” The blonde asks.

“Do _you_?” The brunette avoids the question, answering with her own.

“I guess it’s kind of like she said. She’ll figure it out eventually.” Clarke shrugs.

“True.” Lexa nods. They decide to leave it at that, re-zipping the tent door and attaching the interior lock this time.

Lexa lets her finish up her meal before they settle back into their previous position.

“You wouldn’t have anyway.” The brunette says, half lucidly.

“Wouldn’t have what?”

“Wasted Spaghetti-O’s by throwing them at Octavia.” Lexa says knowingly.

Clarke’s lips turn up at that. “You’re right.” She snuggles closer. “I only give them up to people I like.”

“Yeah?” Lexa chuckles.

“Mhmm.” She replies confidently.

The brunette lies silent and for a moment Clarke thinks that she’s fallen asleep until she hears the faintest “I like you too.”

She sleeps perfectly through the night.

\---  
They make it exactly 18 hours before anyone suspects anything, or at least, that’s what she thought.

She had kept enough distance from the blonde during their hike, mainly because Clarke had lagged in the back with Raven while she and Anya marched up front with Octavia, Roan, and Lincoln.

They were fine at breakfast. They shared the same log as they sat by the fire, but so did all of the other couples. It was the only logical option.

Lexa believed everything had been discrete, even her stolen glances at the blonde.

They make it through the entire trip, really. But as the group starts to say their goodbyes, Lexa leans in to place a kiss on Clarke’s cheek, unknowing to the blonde who turns just as she presses forward. Their lips meet just in time for the entire group to witness their unintentional display of affection, garnering a vast array of reactions.

“I fucking _knew_ it!” Octavia points between them while Lincoln hushes her, quickly adding that he’s “happy for you both.”

Bellamy congratulates Clarke with a “finally” and a friendly thumbs up to Lexa while his girlfriend raises her brows suggestively.  

Her future brother-in-law smiles gently while her sister pretends to violently wretch, shouting “gross” as she gags.

But to be honest, the best reaction, is Clarke’s, who simply leans forward, and kisses her again, much to everyone but Lexa’s dismay.


	21. "I Do" x3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weddings always bring out the sappiest, romantic, and sentimental part of people. (A mini time jump.)

They alternate between each other’s apartments. On the days when they’re at the artist’s place, they spend the majority of the time in the studio, Clarke drafting ideas and Lexa working on paperwork for Trikru or wedding tasks. When they’re at the yoga instructor’s, they cook together, watch television, or just enjoy the other’s company. Occasionally, Clarke will dash off to the kitchen to grab and napkin to doodle if she suddenly comes up with an idea for her showcase, but all in all, it’s easy.

“So, how’s the speech writing going?” Clarke asks as Lexa rounds the couch, handing her a plate. While the brunette settles perpendicularly to her, Clarke takes a bite of the meal the woman had prepared for them before pulling her legs into her lap. It’s a recently developed habit of theirs that they take comfort in; partially because Clarke loves Lexa’s legs, but also because she just likes having Lexa close. She sets the plate with her lunch on the armrest, using her left to eat her sandwich while the right rests lightly against the brunette’s shins.

Lexa chews and swallows before answering.  “It’s okay.” She shrugs, but Clarke can see the turmoil behind her eyes. “I keep rewriting it. I just think overthinking it.” She says with a hint of frustration in her tone. “Every time I think it’s good, I come up with something else, or remember that I forgot something and have to rearrange it.”

The blonde rubs her knee comfortingly. “It’s a lot of pressure. I can try to help, if you want. Though, I’m not good very at expressing myself unless it’s with a paintbrush.”

The brunette gives her an appreciative smile before her face lights up. “Actually, speaking of, I was thinking…” she trails off with an impish smile that has Clarke both nervous and excited.

“Uhh oh.” The blonde teases. “Don’t hurt yourself now.” She jests lightheartedly. Lexa balls up her napkin and throws it in Clarke’s face in retaliation with a laugh, kicking her feet to nudge the blonde in the side, knowing the exact reaction it will elicit. Clarke yelps, squirming as her ribs tingle from her most ticklish area being irritated. She gives a satisfied smirk as the blonde retreats.

“Okay!”  She chuckles. “I’m sorry. Please, continue.” She gestures with a wave of her hand.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted.” Lexa continues with a roll of her eyes and a subtle smile. “I’ve dragged you to yoga willingly and unwillingly.”

“Mostly unwillingly.” Clarke supplies playfully.

“Exactly. So, I was thinking that maybe we could do something more along your alley, like… I don’t know.” She blushes. “I was hoping maybe we could paint together.” Green eyes shine with bashful sincerity.

The blonde’s jaw falls open and the brunette takes her gaping as a shocking disapproval.

“I know it’s your thing. And it’s totally personal so I completely understand if…”

“Yes.” She shakes her head to get back to the present, scooting towards the brunette.

“Really?” Lexa’s face brightens with eagerness.

“Yes. Absolutely.” She repeats resolutely. “Just let me know when.”

“Actually, does now work?” the brunette requests sheepishly. Before Clarke can reply, Lexa is already swinging her legs off of her lap, grabbing both of their plates before leading the blonde back to her bedroom. 

“Wait, aren’t we going to my…” Her words drift off when she steps inside the brunette’s room where the Lexa stands next to an arrangement of newly wrapped canvases, an assortment of basic paints, brushes and pallets, all resting atop of a large tarp that had been laid out on the ground.

“Lexa…” Clarke says breathlessly, completely in awe of the gesture.

“I know it’s not your studio or anything really professional, but I just thought you’d like to have some supplies here too. You know, in case you get inspired. That way you don’t have to keep writing drawing on napkins or searching for random pieces of paper I have lying around the apartment.” The yoga instructor finishes, chewing her lip adorably.

Clarke’s chest swells with appreciation for the brunette with so much generosity in her heart.

“I… I’m… I…” She fights the three words threatening to blurt from her mouth.

Lexa just grins. “Very articulate.” She giggles. “You’re right. Words are not your forte.” She says,

Instead, she opts to express her feelings without the use of vocalization. She steps towards the brunette, wrapping her in her arms before leaning in to press her lips against Lexa’s plump ones. As cliché as it may seem, the world stops spinning in that moment and her heart pounds rapidly against every one of her ribs.

Lexa, having finally recovered from the momentary surprise, moves in tandem lacing her hands around the blonde’s neck. Clarke lets her fingers trail to the small of Lexa’s back, placing her palm fully against it to bring them even closer. When Lexa breaks again, she loosens her hold, only to find emerald eyes locked on her.

“Clarke.” she whispers affectionately, a delicate flick of the ‘k’ as the syllable leaves her tongue. Somehow it’s both powerful and docile at the same time, reverbing in her ear.

“I’m inspired.” The blonde runs her fingers lightly up and down the ridges of the brunette’s spine.

Lexa flushes so red that Clarke can practically feel the heat emitting from her cheeks as she presses her lips to each of them, then her forehead, and finally against her nose. Lexa’s arms drop to encircle her waist.

“We should start while your inspiration is still fresh on your mind.” She contests.

Clarke smiles. It’ll take more than a few seconds for that feeling to disappear. But she obliges. They change into some old t-shirts that Lexa has and settle on the floor, legs crossed under them as they start to unwrap the new supplies.

“So, what are you thinking of painting?” Clarke inquires, tilting her head at the brunette who has been staring blankly at the vast amount of white space in front of her while the blonde, in contrast, had already laid out the entire landscape of her painting.

“I don’t know.” She taps her brush against her knee. “You’re right. Coming up with ideas is hard.”

The blonde hums. “Why don’t we start with something simple like flowers or a bowl of fruit?”

“Flowers would work.” Lexa nods.

“Okay, do you have a specific kind in mind?” Clarke asks, already pulling out her phone.

The brunette ponders for a moment before replying, “pink roses.”

“Alright.” The blonde obliges, leaning over to help sketch out the general form of a rose for the brunette to use as her guide.

“There you go!” She smiles as Lexa returns her own in gratitude.

After a few minutes, Clarke observes the brunette’s posture and the frown on her face.

“You alright?” She asks carefully.

“Yeah, I just don’t think I’m doing this right.” The green-eyed beauty shrugs offhandedly. Clarke finds herself frowning in response the brunette’s self-discouragement.  

“May I?” She tilts her chin at the painting.

“Please.” Lexa agrees, holding the brush out for her. Instead, Clarke shakes her head, flipping it back into position and gently readjusting the tool where it rests in Lexa’s grip. She then places her own hand over the brunette’s grip, carefully guiding it back to the canvas.

“Don’t grip it so tightly. Just kind of hold it like a really loose pencil, and keep your hand a little higher on the brush.” She explains, giving a few light strokes with a darker shade of pink. She uses her free hand to uncap a bit of maroon and black, mixing it to dip the brush in. She swirls the color onto the pallet until it’s just right before returning their joint hands to the canvas, adding some shadows to create a bit of depth.

“It looks so much better already!” Lexa smiles appreciatively. Clarke blushes, turning her attention back to her own painting allowing the brunette to experiment with her brush strokes.

After another half hour, Lexa decides to take a break taking a moment to observe Clarke’s progress.

“I can’t believe you did all that in less than an hour!” She comments with astonishment. “Why doesn’t mine look like that?” She sulks good-naturedly.

“Just need a little more practice.” Clarke encourages.

“Or…” Lexa smirks. “Maybe I just have a crappy teacher who is hiding all her talent for herself.”

The blonde gasps, playfully. “Well! Maybe you’re just a shitty student!”

“No, _you_ are most definitely a shittier student.” She laughs, contorting into what is admittedly an accurate imitation of Clarke attempting to do one of the more basic yoga poses before wobbling and falling on to the floor with a dramatic thud.

“I already told you, I like it on the ground.” The blonde throws back, pointing her brush at the brunette, except Lexa moves at the same time to resituate herself, causing the brush to go straight to her face, streaking a deep green line across the rise of her cheekbone.

“Ohh!” The brunette smirks. “It’s so on now!”

“Lexa!” Clarke gasps as Lexa lunges for her. “It was an accident!” She pleads, but the cries go ignored. Instead, Lexa playfully wrestles her to the ground as her hat gets knocked off and her back hits the floor. Admitting defeat, Clarke relents to letting her smear a glob of pink across her forehead.

“There.” She says satisfactorily. “Now we’re even.” She declares, quite pleased with herself.

Clarke rolls her eyes before sitting up. Lexa doesn’t budge from her position, minimizing the distance between their faces, just centimeters apart. Blue eyes track between green crystals and inviting pink lips before deciding on the latter. She tucks a fallen strand behind Lexa’s ear, cupping the brunette’s cheek and bringing them together for a slow and tender kiss. Her thumb glides over the damp paint on her face, and she feels Lexa smile into her mouth.

When they break apart, it takes a moment for either of them to fully open their eyes, blinking slowly. Clarke swallows at the sight of Lexa’s heavy lids, holding her gaze as they flicker with warm adoration.

“You know…” Clarke quips cheekily, “Paint is a pretty good look on you.”

“Maybe, but it’s perfect on you.” The brunette doesn’t miss a beat, the corner of her lips tilting to the side. Clarke’s simple reply is to kiss it until the evens out on both sides.

“Thank you.” She blushes.

“I just wanted to do something that I knew would make you happy.” Lexa replies with a shrug, trying not to make a big deal out of it, though to Clarke, it’s the sweetest things anyone has ever done for her. Still, she doesn’t press it further, comply with keeping the mood light.

“Aww,” She coos. “Is the wedding speech planning making you extra sentimental?”

“Something like that.” The brunette says, eyes sparkling. “But we should probably get back to painting before this stuff dries out.”

“Sure.” The blonde smiles knowingly.

They end up painting more on themselves than the canvas, and by the end of tit, she’s covered with more streaks, a blob on her nose and her arms are adorned with an assortment of scribbles while Lexa’s have intricate designs wrapped around her wrists, trailing up to her arms, as well as a swirl of patterns across her face.

Even with the clashing colors across her skin, Clarke still finds her radiant. In fact, Lexa has never seemed more striking than in this moment; truly taking her breath away with her inner and outer beauty.

When they finally decide to give it a rest, Lexa hops into the shower while Clarke uses the time to puts some final adjustments onto their works, tweaking and correcting some areas for the brunette without her noticing.

While she works, her phone buzzes.

_Have you seen Lexa today? – A_

Before she even manages to reply, it vibrates again.

_She’s with you, isn’t she? –Anya_

The blonde temporarily holds the brush between her teeth to free up her hands, typing back.

_Kinda. She’s in the shower right now. - C_

_Well, when she’s done tell her, she was supposed to call me an hour ago. – A_

_Sorry! We must have lost track of time. – C_

_Whatever. – A_

 Clarke is thankful that Anya isn’t around to see her reddened cheeks, re-pocketing her phone. A newly clothed Lexa emerges in just as she begins cleaning up, hair damp with a cloud of humidity and perfume trailing after her, wafting into the room.

“Oh my god! Did I do that?” Lexa turns her attention to the painting now on the nightstand, resting against the wall. “It looks so good!” She beams proudly.

“It does.” Clarke simply wedges her lip between her teeth as she smiles, nodding in agreement.

\---

The actually wedding ceremony doesn’t last long, and if she’s being honest, she didn’t really pay much attention to it, while it all passed in a blur. But to be fair, there is  a perfectly legitimate reason as to why.

The wedding venue is small, but for the size of the both parties, Clarke isn’t too surprised. Lexa hadn’t given her all of the details of her past, but she knew enough to infer that the Woods side of the family was small, and they wanted to keep it within a confined group of people. So when they are asked to take their seats, and the procession begins with a string quartet, Clarke is able to get a clear view of the wedding party walking down the aisle.

A short brunette walks in first, accompanied by a tall, muscular man. By Lexa’s stories, she can only infer that the young girl is Ontari, Roan’s baby sister. Next is Echo, based on process of elimination, with another man, just as built as the first. Were all of Roan’s friends so jacked?

The thoughts quickly evaporate when she sees Lincoln walking in with Lexa on his arm. Time stands still and her lungs constrict. She looks on in awe with her throat parched and her tongue feeling too loose in her mouth.

An elbow to her side causes her to jolt.

“You’re drooling.” Octavia sniggers. Clarke straightens with a scowl, cheeks bright, but she can’t help it. When Anya gets escorted down the aisle by an a man with a salt and pepper beard, Clarke knows all eyes should be on the woman of the hour, but her eyes keep drifting back to Lexa. She can’t focus on anything else. They say the bride is supposed to be the most beautiful woman in the room, but God. _Lexa._

_You need to keep it together, Griffin._

Clarke swallows. As the officiant makes his opening remarks, Clarke uses the time to drink in the maid of honor. The dress is a soft champagne color that hugs her curves in all the right places, a black lace neckline accentuates the gentle slope of her shoulders, and the strapless cut gives Clarke the perfect view of the intricate design on her right bicep. With the chandeliers overhead and the dancing crystal reflection in Lexa’s eyes, Clarke can’t stop staring.

Drop. Dead. Gorgeous.

As the couple begins to exchange their vows, she finds Lexa watching her, tilting her head as if to say “pay attention.” Clarke blushes, turning her focus back to Anya, who is currently sniffling through her speech. It’s the first time she’s seen Anya like this and something about it causes the blonde to get teary eyed as well. She doesn’t know why she feels so emotional, but once Anya’s voice cracks in the middle of the exchange, Clarke is a goner, wiping tears embarrassingly cascading down her face. When she finally collects herself enough to look back up again, she finds Lexa glancing at her with a tender smile.

When the final “You may now kiss the bride” is spoken, the blonde feels the need to shield her eyes, unused to seeing Anya and Roan kiss. Though it’s childish behavior, something about it feels invasive. She had never seen the pair this intimate before. Even when they were camping, it was only subtle touches and occasionally leaning on one another’s shoulders. As different as this feels, she can’t help but love the idea of it, wanting to be able to have something like this as well.

As the officiant makes his closing remarks, blue orbs magnetically drift back to find green ones staring right back.

“Today marks the beginning of a beautiful, young partnership.” The man says. “In life, in love, and family. May this ceremony entwine your connection and tie you in a knot that never be severed. May your hearts be blessed with a love that will last for all of your days and many more.”

The ceremony concludes with the recession of the bride, group, and then the wedding party. Anya and Roan lead the group down the aisle, out of the venue, and into the outdoor garden where the few guests are able to take photos with them, or from the great hall into the banquet room where the reception would begin shortly.

\---

Lexa itches to get out of the heat, the skin-tight dress clinging uncomfortably to her skin as her heels sink slightly into the grass while they move about the garden to pose for photos with the majority of Roan’s family. Growing antsy to talk to Clarke, she forces herself to plaster a smile on her face for the sake of her own sanity, though her agile fingers spend the majority of the time toying with the hemline of her bridesmaid dress.

She had immediately spotted the blonde upon entering the room, but had no time to speak with her before the ceremony had begun. It wasn’t even that she had anything important to say. She just wanted to see her. She had spent the majority of the morning scrambling with Ontari and Echo, which had been exhausting in itself, before ensuring that every piece of the schedule fell in place like clockwork.

Aside from briefly catching sight of Clarke sipping on a cocktail at the bar with Octavia, the next hour of photos is pretty uneventful. The shoot consists of arranging and rearranging the wedding party into as many combinations as possible, adding in a few key family members here and there until their MC, Semet, comes to give them their five minute warning. The temporary models nods in acknowledgement, waiting for him to cue the guests into make their way back inside. The wedding party takes their mark, ready to be announced.

“Hello everybody!” She hears Semet greet the guests, microphone echoing from the stage. “Thank you all for joining us on this magical evening when two lovers finally unite! Before we get to the main event, I’d like to introduce you to the people that helped make this possible. Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please turn your attention to the double doors in the back and help give a warm round of applause for the wedding party of Mr. and Mrs. Azgeda.”

The clapping commences as he begins to announce the trio of pairs.

“First, let’s welcome Ms. Ontari Azgeda, sister to the groom. Ontari is accompanied by Roan’s college roommate and close friend, Ryder Oak.”

The room applauds politely as the two enter, making their way to the front of the room and up to the main stage, next to Semet.

“Next up we have another beautiful sister, Echo Azgeda, escorted by none other than Roan’s childhood best friend, Nyko Carpenter.”

Lincoln gives her a quick wink before holding out a broad arm, allowing her to wrap her hand around his elbow.

“And finally, a big round of applause to this dedicated pair of who helped put this entire ceremony together on such short notice. Please welcome  sister of the bride and Maid of Honor, Ms. Lexa Woods , accompanied by Mr. Lincoln Forester, Roan’s the Best Man.” He announces.

The room erupts into tumultuous applause and a few loud whistles. Lexa looks over to find Octavia with two fingers in her mouth, shrill whistle coming from her lips. She glances up at her partner who blushes, shaking his head with a chuckle. The brunette gives him a playful nudge, ready to tease, but is stopped short when her own date decides to join in, cupping her hands around her mouth, shouting a rowdy ‘Hot damn!’

Clarke grins sheepishly as Lexa flushes red.

“That’s my date!” She puffs out her chest, pointing at Lexa, which only causes her ears to burn even hotter. A few attendees laugh at her antics before settling for the final announcement.

“And finally, I would like you to give me your loudest ovation for this evening’s newlyweds, Anya and Roan Azgeda!” Semet cheers and the crowd bursts into a chorus of applause and congratulatory salutes. The wedding party waits for his nod before clearing the area.

“And now…” He lingers, pausing for effect before gesturing at the DJ, “our couple’s very first dance together.”

A gentle acoustic guitar begins to play, melodious and sweet as she watches Roan pull her sister close, both hands on her waist as she links her arms around his neck, swaying to the gentle beat. Anya wasn’t the type to choreograph an elaborate first dance, but that didn’t deter from the special moment.

Her heart warms at the slight of her sister smiling as she looks into her husband’s eyes, her own glistening with pure elation. She loves seeing Anya so happy and in love as she fights back tears. She’s completely elated. Everything finally paid off and it is _so_ worth it.

As the song fades, the guests return to their seats and Anya and Roan take their place up at the center of the table in front of their family and friends.  While they deliver their welcome speech to thank those who attended, a speech that Lexa has heard during the rehearsal many times, she turns her attention to her date, sitting at the table closest to them, her elbow resting on the table and her chin in her palm. The artist had arrived in a deep blue dress, almost navy in tone. Her hair, snapback-free, is done in golden curls and her eyes are highlighted by a dramatic cat eye and smoky eye shadow. The combination does wonders for her skin tone, as well those sapphire orbs. As she studies the blonde, Lexa looks up to find them staring back her, and like a moth to a flame, is hypnotized. Clarke’s lips tick up, brow raised. But instead of feeling the embarrassment of being caught, the brunette copies her expression with a challenge in her eye, daring her to look away.

It’s not until she hears the applause around them that she finally breaks contact, ending their little game, blinking quickly to bring the moisture back into her eyes.

A team of waiters and waitresses soon arrive with plates of food stacked a mile high resting on their shoulders. The crowd begins intermingling as the meal progresses and Lexa takes a moment to let it soak in before she has to assist Anya with her dress as she and Roan go to greet the guests personally.

She’s realizes that she’s now the only Woods left, but the reality of it doesn’t feel as daunting as she had thought it would be. Instead, she feels like a new chapter in her life has just begun and it’s a going to be damn good one to read. Before long, Semet is standing by the DJ’s booth, motioning for Lexa to rise. She takes the cue as he passes her a microphone, raising her glass.

“Hello everybody!” She says, commanding the room. “If I could have your attention.” She takes her knife, tapping it against the crystal-wear. When the room quiets, she resumes.

“First of all, I want to say again, thank you all for joining us today. It means a lot of me and I know it means even more to An and Roan. Their happiness means the world to me, so I’d like to take a moment to give a toast to my beautiful big sister, who has always been there to take care of me, and her husband, who I know will do the same for her.”

“Anya, you will always be someone that respect and look up to.” She turns to face the couple, specifically locking eyes with her sister.

“And Roan, the moment I met you, I knew Anya had finally met her match, in more ways than one.” She addresses her brother-in-law.

“Though your relationship had a rocky, albeit, humorous start, you’ve come a long way from then over the years.” She summarizes for the two.

“I remember when Anya first told me about you and your, I quote ‘stupidly handsome face’ and ‘annoying smug grin.’” She chuckles and her sister blushes and Roan just places an arm around her shoulder. “I knew from the beginning, you would be the perfect pair of – pardon my French – sassholes.” She teases affectionately.

“She told me all the stories about your fights and bickering, yet she just couldn’t stop talking about you, no matter how much she tried to explain that it was out of spite.” The couple shares a laugh at the truthful retelling. “But suddenly, with Roan in her life, colors were brighter, she laughed a little louder, and smile just a smidge wider.” She says softly. “You had your differences, but in the end, it all worked out and as a result, you’re both stronger as individuals, and as a team.”

She then turns to face the audience.  “It’s peculiar, don’t you think? It can’t be a coincidence that everything we do, when it boils down to it, can be categorized into two things: what we do for love and what love does for us. And most of the time, we hope that those things fall into both buckets." She scans the room, eyes lingering on her date just a moment longer than any of the other guests.

“Loving someone is not just about finding them attractive it’s something so much bigger than that, something greater. It’s about loving them for who they are. Seeing and appreciating way that they exist in the world is.” She turns back to Anya and Roan, giving them a sentimental smile.

“It’s about watching them interact in it, even if it’s different from how you would. Because when you love someone, you’re simply happy for the way that they are. And you hope that you can be a part of that.” Her eyes meet Clarke’s as she delivers the final part of her speech.

“You’d do anything to see them smile, sacrifice whatever you have for them. You’re vulnerable because of them. _Not_ because love is weakness, but because you _choose_ to be; to surrender yourself and give them that piece of you. It’s okay to be vulnerable when you find the right person. And it’s okay to let someone in. It’s your love for them and the trust you share that you hope makes them stronger. And their happiness, in return, makes you strong too.” The blonde lights up, shyly biting her bottom lip. Lexa melts before redirecting the conclusion to the couple.

“Love allows you to build each other up while simultaneously having the power to tear each other down. It’s the most terrifying, yet and rewarding thing. And the payoff at the end is something I hope you two always find worth it.” Roan, Anya, I’m glad you two found each other. And I wish you a lifetime of building, growing, and existing together as Anya and Roan but also and Mr. and Mrs.”

Anya’s eyes are streaming with tears as she forgoes formalities, rising to her feet and wrapping her sister up into a tight hug.

“Thank you.” She whispers into Lexa’s neck.

Lexa rubs her back lightly, allowing her a moment as the crowd ‘aww’s’ at the sibling’s touching embrace.

“Come on, you can’t smear your makeup.” She finally pulls herself together. She wipes gently at her sister’s tears, careful not to ruin the dark eyeliner. She seizes the opportunity to run to the bathroom with the excuse of getting paper towels for Anya’s tears, before handing the microphone over to Lincoln to give his Best Man’s speech.

When she makes it to the bathroom, Semet is waiting for her with her garment bag. She gives her a grateful nod, before dashing into the stall, changing as quickly and efficiently as possible. Lincoln had timed his speech out to seven minutes, giving her just enough time to slip into the suit and switch out her heels.

Just as they had planned, she returns to find the room breaking into applause and the DJ getting ready to take over.

The best man sends her an inquisitive gaze, and she holds her thumb up, chin tilting up.

He nods back, clearing his throat. “Now, in a traditional wedding, we would normally start with a father-daughter dance…” He says, hardly able to contain his excitement.

She looks to see Anya’s eyes widened in apprehension.

“But unfortunately, Mr. Woods couldn’t make it.” He says with a sad smile. “But though he is no longer with us, we were lucky enough to find a last minute replacement.” He gestures to the back of the room where Lexa steps out of the shadows and all heads turn in her direction.

The bride’s jaw falls open as the room gasps. Anya stumbles to her feet as Lexa slowly processes to meet her in the middle of the dance floor, withdrawing the pocket square from the blazer that she had gotten tailored when Roan and the groomsmen, making a show of straightening out her tie before offering out the silky material, taking her sister by the hand.

“L-Lex…” Her sister fumbles, speechless. The brunette’s response is a gentle smile.

“An, just because you’re an Azgeda now doesn’t mean we’ll ever stop being family.” She promises. “I know our parents couldn’t be here physically, but I know they’re here in spirit. And I’m here on their behalf to tell you one thing; that we will always love you, no matter how far apart we may be.”

Chocolate eyes well with tears and this time, Lexa doesn’t bother wiping them because her own are falling from her eyes as well. Their pseudo-father-daughter dance is an endearing mess of sobbing and giggling. But she’s pretty sure there isn’t a dry eye in the room by the time they’re finished.

\---

“Let me buy you a drink.” Clarke grins sheepishly, finally finding Lexa free of her Maid of Honor duties. She had seen the brunette running from guest to waiter to bartender to Anya to the bathroom to Nia and round in so many circles,

She does her best to play it cool, leaning an elbow on the bar as she shamelessly gawks at the brunette in front of her. It’s the first time she’s seen Lexa actually sitting down. The brunette had been running around doing typical Maid of Honor duties, exchanging shoes, refilling glasses, playing hostess, conversing with guests, fixing bobby pins and readjusting loose strands of hair. she’s amazed that Lexa hasn’t gotten dizzy from all the circles she has been running. She has to hand it to her, the brunette still looks great, despite the clear exhaustion in her eyes, green eyes growing duller and muted as the night progressively wears on.

“it’s an open bar, Clarke.” Lexa points out flatly, running her fingers through her hair with a sigh. It gets caught in a tangle.

“Shh.” Undeterred, the blonde brushes the comment off, playfully pressing her finger to Lexa’s lips before leaning down, reaching out to carefully assist her in detangling the small knot. “Just let me have this.” She quips.

“Okay.” Lexa whispers. “Thanks.” Her eyes fall to Clarke’s lips and the blonde wants nothing more than to lean forward and kiss her. But she doesn’t want to make Lexa uncomfortable, especially since they _still_ haven’t labeled what they are. Not to mention, it would be in front of all of her friends and family.

Instead, she elects to get the brunette a glass of champagne from the bartender, as they sit in silent comfort, watching the crowd while Lexa takes a moment to rehydrate herself and rest her feet.

“So…” She bounces her knee, nerves getting the better of her. “Your toast… did you really mean all that or was that just nice wedding fluff?”

The brunette pivots in her seat to face her, her knees brushing against the exposed skin of her own. “A little bit of both.” Lexa smirks, taking a sip of her wine, pinky raised classily.

Color rises to her cheeks as she continues. “And the love is weakness part?” Clarke dares to ask. “Did you mean that too?”

“I did.” Lexa nods with conviction.  “ _I do_.”

_Do something, Griffin, before you turn into a gay disaster!_

“Dance with me?” Clarke asks, holding out a hand.

They manage to get two songs together before Anya is tugging Lexa away to the photo booth. To Clarke’s surprise, the bride grabs her wrist as well, dragging them both along as she weaves them away from the dance floor.  The booth allows them to take three photos in succession before printing them out on a photo strip.

The first picture they take is relatively normal; Roan and Anya sandwiched between Clarke and Lexa, who flank them on each side, respectively.

The next one they take, Lexa suggests should be a “silly pose.” Just as the camera starts counting down, the blonde gets an idea. She quickly dashes over to the bride, smiling devilishly.

Anya reads right into her intentions and glares. “Clarke Griffin, don't you fucking dare!”

Too late.

With what little upper body strength she has, she attempts to hold the bride, bridal style.

_As if there’s any other way to do it._

Roan and Lexa quickly catch on; assisting her as they hoist her into the air. The camera captures their pose and even in the quick preview, Clarke can tell it’s a chaotic, _fantastic_ photo.

The final picture is of Anya, arms crossed and scowl on her face as she glares daggers at her husband and his sidekicks. But Clarke pays them no mind, leaning to place a chaste kiss on her date’s cheek just the flash goes off.

Anya and Roan place their copy in the binder on the table while Clarke and Lexa pocket theirs. The bride then gives Clarke a shove, grumbling at her for “almost ruining the dress”, but not before Clarke catches a hint of a smile on her face. Anya stomps off dramatically with Lexa to get a drink and adjust her gown.

“You remind me of myself.” Roan chuckles, retrieving his beer from the table. “I used to be a little bit of an ass.” he says in a tone that’s light enough to convey that he means it non-offensively. “You’re not as bad though.” He laughs. “I mean, I was just a total tool. You are just kind of…”

“Immature.” Clarke supplies with a defiant grin. “Purposely irritating.”

Roan shrugs, though she catches the slightest uptick of a smirk on his face.

 “Then Anya came along and whooped me in the ass.” He scoffs fondly. “She’s cool with you, you know?” He takes another swig of his drink.

“I don’t know… She texts me otherwise.” The blonde says with reverie.

That causes him to pause, lowering the glass from his lips. “Wow.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

“What?” She tilts her head in confusion at his sudden amusement.

“She definitely likes you.” He continues to laugh. “You’ve known her for how long? Anya wouldn’t even give me her number until almost 6 months after we started talking. I had to email her using our school IDs. Do you know how embarrassing it is to ask a girl out using an email address that you know is going to be screened by every administrator?”

This time, Clarke chuckles, clinking her beer with the newlywed.

“I’ve made a fool of myself plenty of times for a Woods girl.” She offers.

“They sure are something, aren’t they?” Roan muses.

“They’re pretty special.” She agrees.

“Can’t live with em, can’t live without em.” The groom supplies. Just as the words leave his mouth, Anya emerges from the crowd, a line set in her face. She grasps him by the ear with a relaxed tug.

 “You’re literally moving to another country to _live_ with me. You better be able to ‘live with em.” She scolds half-heartedly.

“Oww.” Roan yelps dramatically. “Yes babe. I know. It was a joke.”

“Not a funny one.” Anya grumbles, giving him another tug.

At the suggestion of living together, Clarke finds herself imagining a living arrangement with Lexa and startles herself at how domestic they’ve become since the beginning of their friendship those few months ago, suddenly realizing how easily she can picture it. Lexa knows her way around the apartment. Clarke cooks for her. Lexa cleans. Their belongings are mixed amongst the others. They share clothes and stay the night.

“Hello? Earth to Griffin.” Anya waves hand in front of her. “What are you think about?”

She blinks. “Sorry, what?”

Anya just rolls her eyes and Roan gives her a knowing smile.

Luckily, she’s saved by her date who wraps her delicate fingers over her bicep when she returns.

“Sorry about that. After I left with Anya, Nia found me, and I got caught up in a conversation with her and Ontari about some guy she’s seeing named Ilian. Long story short, there’s a big mess of approval and disproval that I really don’t…” The brunette cuts herself off. “Sorry. You don’t want to hear about that anyway.”

“I like hearing whatever you have to say.” She says honestly.

“Yeah, but I’ve been M.I.A all night. I’m being such a crappy date even though I’m the one who asked you to come.”

As if on cue, Echo comes striding briskly towards them, summoning Lexa to the DJ booth.

“Be right there.” Lexa assures her sister-in-law before turning her attention back to Clarke.

“See?” The brunette sighs. “And now I have to go again. I’m sorry I’ve barely spent any time with you tonight.” She apologizes.

Clarke refuses to accept it, offering her a warm smile with a shake of her head.  “Call me sappy, but-”

“Sappy butt.” Lexa interjects with an airy giggle, still having enough energy left in her for one last joke.

“Okay.” Clarke joins in with a laugh. “I’ll let you have this just once because you’re the Maid of Honor and I know you’ve been exhausted and busy.”

“Okay, go on.” Green eyes twinkle. “What were you going to say?”

“That I think I actually have a pretty good date,” She defends. “And she’s been wonderful so far, despite what she may think ”

“Yeah?” Lexa cocks a brow. “Well mine is better.” She asserts with a tilt of her lip before dashing off.

\---

The ceremony concludes with her sister and her husband cutting the cake, which takes a momentary turn, verging on the edge of a food fight when Anya slaps a sheet of fondant onto Roan’s cheek, the stick substance getting caught in his beard as she cackles. When he goes to retaliate, Anya ducks, causing the handful of cake to go into his mother’s face instead.

It’s ridiculous, and she loves it.

After the everyone’s sugar tooth is satiated, they proceed with the garter removal ceremony, which Lincoln ends up catching when Roan tosses it. When Anya steps onto the stage, back to the single ladies in the crowd, the bouquet flies in her direction. But instead of catching it, she drags Clarke away, pushing Octavia forward so that the flowers land in her hand.

She and the blonde share a mischievous grin as her two students blush furiously.

All in all, it’s a perfect evening and after the grand exit, she lingers behind to help with cleaning up and tearing down. When she finally makes it to her car, she’s surprised to find golden tresses illuminated in the moonlight, waiting for her.

“Clarke?” She squints into the dark. “What are you still doing here?”

“Octavia waited for Lincoln.” The blonde shrugs.

“Oh, right. You carpooled.” She concludes, rubbing at the corner of her eye. She’s pretty sure she’s smeared her eyeliner in the process, but she’s too tired to care. Her feet hurt and after changing back into her bridesmaid dress, she’s can’t wait to finally throw on a t-shirt and crawl into bed. “Sorry, I’m a little slow right now.” She yawns.

“O’s driving Lincoln home. I was hoping that…”

“Yeah. I can give you a ride.” She predicts.

“Actually, I wanted to ask if you’d let me drive you home.” The blonde chews her lip nervously. “I’ll take an Uber back to my place afterwards.”

Lexa blinks.

“I… umm, I know you’ve had a really long day and you’ve been up since before dawn.” Clarke explains, her speech lowly increasing in speed as she rambles. “And I also know that you always want to drive, which I understand your reasons why, but I would just feel better if I knew that…”

“Okay.” She reaches out, taking the blonde’s hands in her own. “Thank you.” She whispers.

Clarke leans in, brushing their noses together before finally connecting their lips. It had been hovering over them for the entire span of the wedding. She feels herself relax, easing into the kiss that both of them had spent the night craving.

The blonde opens the door for her, allowing her to situate herself in the passenger seat before climbing into the vehicle herself, buckling into the driver’s side. She places the keys in the ignition but pauses before shifting the gear.

“Are you ready?” The blonde inquires patiently, sensing her hesitance.

“Yeah, I just…” She inhales slowly, closing her eyes to collect her nerves. She feels a warm hand slip into her own, causing her to reopen her eyes, heavy lids adjusting to their weight slowly.  

“It’s okay.” Clarke says gingerly. “I promise I’ll be careful.” She assures. “I know you’re tired, you can sleep if you want.” She offers with sincerity.

“No, I’m fine.” She chokes slightly on the words. She makes to protest but the words die in her mouth.

“Lexa,” Blue eyes turn to face her, and Lexa sees nothing but pure admiration in them. “Trust me.” Clarke brushes her thumb against her wrist.

She allows her mind to key into the feeling of the warm finger running comfortingly over her skin. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s go.” She affirms.

With Clarke being left-handed and Lexa being right, the blonde manages to drive them back to the apartment without a problem, her grip never faltering as she holds her hand the whole way back to the brunette’s apartment.

 The blonde walks her back to her door.

“I’m sorry again for being such a horrible date.” Lexa apologizes once more.

“Stop.” Clarke shakes her head. “Don’t apologize. I had a blast and it was a beautiful wedding. Much better than our first date.”

“Yeah.” She reveals a small smile. “I guess you’re right.” She agrees, pausing to bask in the memory.

“Goodnight, Lexa.” she places a final kiss onto the brunette’s cheek. “Get some rest.”

“Thank you, Clarke. You too.” She bids the blonde goodbye, slowly closing the door, the thought of the conclusion of both of their dates cycling through her head. How different it was back then, and how far they’ve come up until now.

It takes all of two seconds for her to throw the door open, rushing after the blonde. She rounds the corner down the hall to find Clarke waiting for the elevator, thankful to have slowed her departure.

“Clarke, wait!” She calls out the blonde, jogging to meet her.

“Is everything okay?” The artist inquires, voice laced with alarm.

“Yes.” She assures, before contradicting herself. “And no.”

Bold brows stitch together as an adorable wrinkle forms between them.

“What’s wrong?” Clarke asks with concern.

“I… I almost let you go.” Lexa confesses. It takes a moment, but she can slowly see the realization creeping into the blonde’s blue orbs. They’re not just referring to LExa sending her through the front door a few seconds ago. 

Clarke breaks into a full-blown grin. “Welll, what kind of idiot would do that?” She says jokingly. “I’m a catch.” She puffs out her chest.

“You are.” The brunette surges forward, feeling the curved press of Clarke’s lips against her own as she smiles through the kiss.

“How did we even get here?” Lexa laughs when they break apart panting.

“I don’t know, do you?” Clarke says slyly, but she sees right passed it.

“I don’t regret it.” She says truthfully.

“Me either.” Clarke says.

“Kiss me again.” Lexa requests breathily.

“Gladly.” The blonde obliges. They’re so caught up in themselves that they don’t even notice when the elevator arrives, the door opening with a ‘ding’. And frankly, she’s perfectly content with that.


	22. An Important Question or Two

They sleep soundly, at least, until an irritating buzz draws her out of her peaceful slumber, reluctantly withdrawing from where her arms had been wrapped securely around the beautiful brunette under the sheets.

She props herself up against the headboard, placing a kiss on Lexa’s temple and a whispered “sorry” before answering.

 “Hello?” Her voice is still a bit groggy and Lexa shuffles beside her, reaching out to link their hands.

“You have twenty minutes to get over here.” Anya threatens.

Clarke rubs her eyes. “What? Why?”

“Twenty minutes. Come alone.” The woman on the other side of the line repeats before disconnecting the call abruptly. She blinks dumbfounded at her phone.

“Who was that?” Lexa rests her head in Clarke’s lap and the artist’s fingers start to card through her hair.

“Your sister.” Clarke divulges.

“What did she want?” The brunette asks sleepily.

“My life, possibly.” Clarke half jests, though there is still a very real possibility that Anya isn’t playing games. “She told me to head over to her place.”

“Okay.” Lexa hums. “When does she need you to head over?”

“Well, now, actually.” The artist rubs at the back of her neck. “She said I had twenty minutes or else.”

“Or else what?” The brunette snorts, unfazed by her sister’s threat.

“I don’t know. The ‘or else’ was kind of implied.”

Lexa chuckles. “You’re both so dramatic.” She teases, finally propping herself up onto her knees so that she’s at eye level with the upright blonde. Clarke watches her with curiosity until the brunette leans in, nose brushing against hers tenderly.

“Good morning, Clarke.” She whispers dozily.

“Good morning, Lexa.” The blonde parrots before catching her lips. It’s languid and lazy and Clarke _really_ doesn’t want the moment to end. But Lexa pushes against her shoulder with a light shove.

“You better get going.” She says. Always the responsible one.

“I might not make it back.” Clarke continues on theatrically. “When you see Spaghetti-O’s, think of me.” She throws an arm over her forehead with an exasperated gasp.

Green eyes roll at her playfully.

“You _better_ come back to me.” Lexa says firmly before ushering her towards the bathroom with another peck to the cheek.

Clarke readies within minutes, changing into a spare set of clothes she had kept at the brunette’s place before borrowing Lexa’s car to make it to the newly married woman’s place.

When she arrives, Anya somehow manages to open the door right as she lifts her fist to knock against the wood, resulting  in an incredibly awkward situation where her knuckles make contact with the older blonde’s sternum instead.

Her eyes widen in alarm.

“Fuck, Anya. I didn’t meant to.” Clarke flubs with cherry-red cheeks and burning ears.

“Get inside.” The unaffected woman rolls her eyes, stepping aside for Clarke to enter the apartment full of boxes and shipping supplies.

The second the door clicks shut, she feels herself being pulled forward as a set of arms wrap around her neck, squeezing tightly.

Her brain turns fuzzy. Anya Woods, or rather Anya Azgeda, was _hugging_ her!

_You must still be dreaming, Griffin._

She squeezes her eyes shut, but when they reopen, she’s still in the blonde’s apartment and she sees the cardboard containers scattered around the small living space.

_Definitely not dreaming._

When Anya lets go, her eyes are back to their dangerous, sharp form.

“If you tell anyone what just happened. I _will_ end you.” Anya discloses.

“Fully noted.” The artist nods rapidly.

“Good.” The woman replies gruffly, stepping to place some distance between them again.

“Anya?” Clarke dares herself to ask.

“What?”

“Umm, what was that for?” She rubs anxiously at the back of her neck.

The woman gestures down the hall to at the unwrapped canvas leaning against the wall. Clarke hadn’t noticed it when she walked in.

“Oh.” She does her best to remain as collected as possible.

“And for everything else.” Anya adds a moment later.

Clarke blushes, comprehending the massive weight of the implication.  It was a big deal. Not only for Anya to thank her personally, but for everything that Lexa and Clarke had slowly become.

“She’s happier than I’ve seen her be in years.” Anya states, pulling her from her thoughts. “And the wedding, that was all you.”

The pink in her cheeks deepens to a scarlet flush as Anya tilts her chin at the living space, scarcely filled with a single couch and a television resting on the floor.

Clarke shuffles off her shoes, leaving them as neatly by the door as she can, imagining how much Lexa would be laughing at her sudden change in character as she attempted to impress her sister. After the two are settled across from each other on the couch, Anya’s brown eyes begin to study her.

She wills herself to hold the eye contact as the chocolate orbs continue to search and scrutinize.

“You know, there was a point in time when I really hated you.” Anya divulges.

“Oh, I know.” Clarke assesses. “But now…?” She prompts with a cheeky smile, nudging the blonde in the side.

“Don’t push it.” The woman says flatly.

Clarke holds up her hands in defense. “Okay, okay.”

The slightest uptick of Anya’s lips eases her doubts, though she may not actually speak anything out loud.

“In all seriousness, I hated me too back then.” The blonde says levelly. “I was in a bad place and I know that’s no excuse. But I’m glad that Lexa gave me a second chance.”

“She’s a good person.” Anya nods. “Sometimes too good of a person.”

“I’d attest to that.” Clarke chuckles. “Like you said, she’s too good for me.” She jokes, recalling the threatening tone in Anya’s voice those many months ago when they had their first confrontation along the muddy hiking trail.

Anya’s lips press into a thin, restrained smile, but it’s genuine enough for Clarke to consider it a win.

“Yeah.” The older woman agrees with a hum. She looks around the apartment in its scattered state, releasing a sigh and Clarke can see the bittersweet feelings swirling in her eyes. She truly was Lexa’s sister; both of them having incredibly expressive eyes that spoke the most telling of thoughts when their voices failed to do so out loud.

“I promise,” Clarke holds up a hand in pledge, “to take care of her for you. I know I’m not perfect. But I really do care about her. I lo…” she catches herself just in time as Anya’s eyes dart up, widening slightly.

Clarke swallows. “I just mean I’ll do my best not to mess up. I want to treat her right.” She says with conviction. “Lexa deserves it.”

Anya nods in approval. “She does.”

A pause falls between them, lulling the conversation. In her eyes, Clarke sees Anya carefully turning the next words she wants to say.

“You too.” She finally speaks.

Clarke finds herself speechless at the two simple words that tumbled from Anya’s lips. Thankfully, Anya doesn’t seem fazed by her having suddenly gone quiet and instead shrugs.

“You should get back.” The older woman instructs.

Clarke tilts her head in confusion, still not fully recovered from the heartfelt words that Anya so sparingly uses.

“You were at her place this morning, weren’t you?” She continues observantly.

The painter bites her lip, unable to deny the accusation.

“Get back to cuddling with my sister.” Anya smirks. “I have a hubby to attend to. It’s honeymoon time.”

And with that, her lower eyelid twitches as the unwelcome visual renders itself into her imagination.

Anya cackles nonstop until Clarke is finally out the door.

That did not end as badly as she had thought.

\---

When she returns to Lexa’s apartment, she carefully places the keys on the counter, making sure to slip back into the bedroom as quietly as possible. She finds Lexa, who had since fallen back asleep, with her face buried under the covers and just her nose and closed eyes peeking over the edge of the blanket.

Clarke carefully pads over to the bed, wrapping herself around the sleeping brunette.

“Mmm, hi.” Lexa mumbles with a lazy smile as she shuffles closer to press into Clarke’s chest. “That was fast.”

Clarke nods. “You told me to come back to you. And here I am.” She gestures to herself exaggeratedly.

Lexa giggles into her neck as they both settle into each other comfortably, releasing a contented sigh. For a moment, Clarke feels her heart about to burst, loving the feeling of the brunette next to her. _Loving_ the brunette next to her.

She reaches out to delicately trace her thumb along the bottom of Lexa’s perfectly pouty bottom lip.

“What are you doing?” Lexa whispers, eyes still closed.

“Nothing.” She trails back the other direction, applying the slightest bit of wait from her hand, causing her lip to follow in the direction of her movements. “Go back to sleep.”

The brunette parts her lips, catching Clarke’s thumb as it slips, nibbling it playfully before releasing with a smile, green eyes fluttering open in brilliant forest hues of magnificent trees and grassy meadows. Lexa is a goddess.

“Can I painting you?” Clarke finds herself blurting as she drowns in the ethereal woman by her side. Lexa grins, rolling onto her side to prop herself on her elbow, lips hovering as she waits for Clarke to close the distance.

After admittedly too much procrastinating (kissing) they finally set up a tarp and Clarke helps Lexa position herself into a comfortable, yet artistic pose. Clarke gazes at the woman, studying her form; everything from the joint of her wrist to the angle of her jawline all the way up to the sparkle in her emerald orbs. Everything about Lexa is perfect.

\---  
Lexa loves watching Clarke work, brows stitched adorably as she concentrates, paint-stained t-shirt hanging from her shoulders and a pallet in hand. She’s completely in her element, so absorbed that she doesn’t even notice her own stomach grumbling. But Lexa hears it loud and clear amongst their comfortable silence.

“Do you want to take a break and eat something?” She asks.

No response.

Clarke’s tongue is poked out between her lips as she continues with broad brush strokes and a steady hand. Her blue eyes track over the lines she creates, fully focused on the art.

“Clarke?” Lexa tries again, attempting to lure the concentrated blonde back to the present so that she can attend to her stomach’s needs. “You want some lunch?”

Silence again.

She chuckles. Maybe a pet name.

“Want me to make you Spaghetti-O’s, babe?”

Still nothing.

She shakes her head, standing from the stool she’s been perched on, walking over to the blonde whose eyes are glued to the canvas.

She places a hand on Clarke’s shoulder and suddenly the blonde jolts, pallet clattering onto the ground, skirting down her lap in the process and the brush goes flying.

Lexa fights off her laughter as Clarke flails.

“Fuck!!” The blonde yelps.

“Sorry,” Lexa hides a giggle behind her hand, squatting to pick up the fallen brush and pallet, placing them on the table to Clarke’s side. “I was just trying to get your attention. You were really in the zone.”

“You scared the shit outta me.” Clarke agrees with a feigned pout.

“Oh really?” Lexa leans to gaze around at Clarke’s backside. “Let’s see it then.”

“What?” A wrinkle forms between the blonde’s brows.

“The shit I scared out of you.” Lexa teases.

“You’re disgusting, Woods.” Clarke groans.

“Thank you.” The brunette laughs, excessively puffing her chest out with pride.

“I hate you.” Clarke retaliates, scrunching her nose.

“No you don’t.” She chuckles with a confident raise of her brow.

“Fine, I don’t.” Clarke submits easily. “But you still made me look like an idiot.” She good-naturedly grumps, brushing the paint off her lap as best she can.

“Yeah?”  Lexa grabs the tattered rag to her side, assisting the artist in cleaning up the mess streaked across her legs. “Who do you have to impress?” She smirks.

“Oh, you know…” Clarke muses with a sly grin. “Just some girl that I’m friends with.”

“Just friends, hmm?” Lexa challenges, taking a step closer.

“Well, we _do_ kiss sometimes.” Clark admits sheepishly, leaning in.

“And how’s that working for you?” Lexa asks, playing along.

“Good.” Clarke grins back, millimeters away. Lexa can feel the breath from her lips intermingling wither own.

“Just good?” She whispers.

Clarke pulls back.

“What do you mean?” Clarke wavers apprehensively. The brunette suddenly realizes the misconstrued implication, quickly making work to clarify.

“Why not make it more?” Emerald orbs drop to rose petal lips.

“Lexa?” Clarke’s eyes widen.  

“Don’t you want to be more than friends?” She can’t believe she’s doing this. Here.  Now.  So spontaneously and wildly. She never would have thought that she would ever get to this point again. And definitely not without a plan or a grand gesture to accompany it. But this was Clarke. And everything with Clarke was wild, spontaneous, and full of color.

“I…”

_There’s no turning back now._

“Girlfriends, Clarke.”  The brunette clarifies, as if it isn’t obvious.

“Are you…” suddenly grinning shit-eating spreads goofily across Clarke’s features and somehow, it only serves to make her even more endearing. “Lexa Woods, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” She inquires with a light-hearted presumptuousness.

She laughs, loving how quickly the blonde transforms into her old self, with a hilariously terrible cockiness to her that Lexa now knows is all an act.

Still, she humors her. “Bitch, I might be.”  She winks, take Clarke’s hat off her head and placing it on her own, snapback spun backwards.

“That’s so old.” Clarke laughs, kissing her. _Finally_.

“So is that a yes?” She smiles when they break apart. “Are you my girlfriend now?”

A playful glimmer flashes behind sapphire orbs before she responds with a mischievous smirk. “Bitch, I might be.”

Lexa rolls her eyes before grabbing her collar and pulling her to her lips, finding it too difficult to properly kiss her girlfriend because neither of them can stop smiling.

If someone were to ask if she was in love with Clarke Griffin, she would have one response. _Bitch, she might be._

\---

They eventually move the painting to Clarke’s studio, where she can have more access to the proper art supplies. After nearly completing Lexa’s portrait, she transitions over to working on her showcase paintings. But by the late evening, Lexa is tugging her to bed as she rolls her neck and shoulders, cringing when she feels how stiff they’d become from being hunched over canvases all day.

“Lay on your stomach.” Lexa instructs, giving her an affectionate push towards the bed.

She does so without complaint, feeling her boneless body sinking into the mattress with a groan.

“Comfortable?” The brunette asks.

“Very.” She nods languidly. She feels the bed dip beside her and a set of hands start to massage at the tight knots around her shoulder blades.

A moan escapes from her chest when long fingers start to caress against the knobs of her spine, trailing down to the small of her back. Lexa stills and Clarke turns a burning crimson, burying her face into the pillow to hide her embarrassment.

She feels Lexa tugging at brightened tips of her ears.

“It’s okay, Clarke.” She coaxes before returning back to her ministrations, trailing kisses in the wake of the path of her hands.

Lexa ends up spending another night with Clarke.

“What are you so smiley about?” She asks when the brunette returns from the shower. She shuffles to the side, allowing Lexa to join her in watching old reruns of Sailor Moon, the soft glow of the television casting dancing light shows across her freshly showered skin.

“Nothing.” Lexa smiles softly.  “I just love how your shampoo smells like gummy bears.”

Clarke snorts. “Thank you?”

“It’s not a bad thing.” Lexa chuckles, climbing under the sheets. “It just always surprises me, but in a good way.”

“What can I say?” Clarke smirks. “I’m full of surprises, you should know that by now.”

Lexa releases a laugh in the form of a puff of air through her nose. “That ego of yours.” She clicks her tongue affectionately, nudging her hip.

The blonde beams cheekily, switching off the television, scooting down.

“Come on.” She urges, encouraging the brunette to slip under the sheets as she lifts them for her to slide in. Her feet are cold and Lexa gasps when the press against her warm calves. Lexa emits a comfortable heat from her time under the hot shower water and Clarke shamelessly drapes herself over the girl’s warm body, humming in contentment. When her advances aren’t rejected, her limbs relax and she boldly drapes a leg over the brunette’s waist.

“Well, hello to you too.” Lexa laughs, snaking a hand over her thigh, fingers tracing intricate patterns against smooth skin.

Clarke wiggles into her as she playfully starts biting along Lexa’s jaw. She can’t resist. It’s just so damn _sharp_. And Lexa is giggling, pressing herself into Clarke’s ear as she laughs. And it's fucking fantastic. Hands down the best sound Clarke has ever heard. And she loves it. And oh, did she mention that she loves her?

\---

When Lexa leaves the yoga studio a few days later, she’s surprised to find damp golden curls waiting outside her apartment.

“Clarke?” She squints into the pouring rain at her soggy girlfriend. “What are you doing outside? Are you trying to catch a cold?” She hurriedly unlocks the door, ushering the artist inside.

“No.” The blonde says impishly. “But I wouldn’t mind catching something else.” She snakes her hands around Lexa’s waist, pulling her close. It’s a bit awkward with her bag slung over her shoulder, but being in Clarke’s hold feels safe, and she’s not about to deprive herself of that, even if that meant Clarke’s soaking attire was seeping through into her own.

“Oh yeah?” Lexa bites her lip lustfully as she concentrates her attention on the blonde’s blue eyes, and not her transparent t-shirt. “So then what is it that you _are_ trying to catch?” She probes.

“Your eye.” Clarke replies confidently.

She lets out a laugh at the unexpectedly response, unraveling herself as she sets her things down, motioning for the blonde to follow. They transition down the hall where Lexa retrieves two towels from the closet, wrapping one around her girlfriend’s soaking shoulders before cloaking herself as well.

Clarke smiles gratefully, toweling off her hair as Lexa gestures for her to remove her wet clothing and set them in the hamper. She does the same as well until they’re standing in nothing but their undergarments. They the crawl under the sheets to warm themselves up, tangling their legs and hooking their ankles around one another, latching their entwined bodies together.  

“Okay. You’ve got my eye.” The brunette says, recalling their previous conversation. “What next?”

“Well,” Clarke pauses. “I was thinking… maybe I could take you out on a real date?” She suggests.

“We could make it official?” She scoots closer as she continues. “Kiss? We could go dancing? Or kiss? Or maybe if you want we could stay in watch a movie and I’ll cook? Kiss a little?” She grins cheekily. “We could paint something together. I don’t know. Did I mention kissing as an option? Because that’s definitely a possibility.” Clarke whispers, now close enough to brush her nose against Lexa’s.

The brunette chuckles, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “You’re such a dork. I can’t believe that’s how you got girls to fall for you.” She rolls her eyes, but continues to indulge the blonde’s pursed lips, peppering feather-light kisses on them until Clarke pulls back to speak again.

“To be fair they didn’t fall for me.” Clarke shrugs, rolling onto her elbows so that she’s lying with her chest on Lexa’s, the comforting weight blanketing her with warmth. “They just… fell into bed with me.”

Lexa snorts. “Fell into bed with you.” She rolls her eyes as she raises a brow incredulously between their almost naked bodies.

“Okay. I see your point.” Clarke laughs.

Lexa loves the way her husky breathes beat against her skin. “For the record,” she adds, “I fell in both ways.”

“Both ways?” Clarke asks teasingly. “You’re bi now.”

The brunette pokes her side in retaliation.

Clarke squeaks, squirming on top of her. Lexa takes advantage of the moment, quickly rolling their positions.

“You know what I meant.” She scolds, pinning the blonde under her.

“Yeah....” Clarke draws playfully before lowering her voice. “I was just hoping to hear you say it.” She confesses.

The brunette softens at the genuine request.

She dips her head down, fingers pressed into Clarke’s waist.

“I’m falling for you, Clarke Griffin.” Her heart thrums as the words leave her lips and in their tightly pressed position, she can feel Clarke’s beating just as quickly.

“I’m falling for you too.” Her girlfriend says breathlessly.


	23. Dating, Making, Bending

The artist clambers through the apartment, footsteps thundering as she rounds the corner, almost smashing her shoulder into the wall as she barrels around. Octavia sits watching the fiasco from her place on the couch, having given up on assisting the hurricane that is her roommate.

“Clarke,” she sighs for the millionth time, leaning into her boyfriend’s arm as she observes her. “Calm down, seriously.” She urges.

“She’s just a bit nervous.” Lincoln assesses, muffling a chuckle behind his clenched fist as Clarke trips over to the bathroom to find a way to manage her hair.

“Clarkey, sweetie, darling…” Octavia sing-songs humorously. “It’s just Lexa. You’ve hung out hundreds of times. Why are you so anxious about this?” She tries to reason. “She’s already your girlfriend.”

“Because!” The blonde pokes her head down the hall to call down the hallway. “I just am!”

Lexa deserves the best and Clarke is going to bend over backwards to make sure she gets it.

She hears her roommate releasing a groan. “Okay, fine. Then come here at least.” The brunette beckons and Clarke reluctantly trudges to the living space, mascara wand in hand.

Octavia extracts herself from Lincoln’s hold, laying the television remote in his lap before placing a kiss on his smooth head. He flips it to the football game as the two girls continue with their process.

“First of all,” her roommate prefaces, “lose the cardigan.” She says, tugging at the sleeves until it falls off her shoulders. “It’s August in DC. You don’t need this. It’s completely unnecessary and it’s just going to make you sweat.”

“Sweat?!” Her eyes widen in alarm. “Oh God! Do I smell?” She raises her arms. “Shit! I need to take another shower.”

Before she manages to sprint back down the hall, Octavia catches her by the hem of her top.

“No, Clarke!” She gives her a gentle tug, pulling her back to center of weight. “Stop, you don’t. You’re fine. You smell fine.” She emphasizes.

“Only fine?!” She panics.

“You smell wonderful, Clarke.” Lincoln chimes in politely, eyes not leaving the television.

“Excuse you?” Octavia gives him a playful smack on the shoulder.

“You will always smell the best, babe.” He assures. “No competition there.”

Octavia grins before tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“Seriously, Clarke.” She returns her attention to the flustered artist. “You don’t need all this.” She gestures up and down at her arms and neck adorned in an abundance of jewels. “It’s not you. Just be yourself.” Octavia urges, unhooking clasps until she’s left with a single cuff around her right wrist. “There, much better.” She settles.

“Thanks, O.” Clarke lets out a sigh of relief.

“That girl has you wrapped around her finger. You’ve become the grossest mushball.” She retorts teasingly. “So is everything ready for your date?” Her roommate nods her head towards the kitchen.

“I think so.” She affirms with a nod, retrieving the basket of supplies.

“Good! Go get em, tiger!” Octavia encourages, tapping her rear lightly before usher her out the door. “You’re already twenty minutes late.”

“What?!” Her eyes widen as she scrambles for her phone to check the time.

“I’m just messing with you.” The brunette places a hand over the screen, pushing it back towards her pocket. “I couldn’t let you off that easily.” She humors, grabbing Clarke’s snapback off the counter and placing it on her head. “Now get going. I don’t expect to see you back here tonight, got it?” Her lips curl into a devilish smile as she sends a wink over her shoulder at her boyfriend who just shakes his head in response to her sexual implications.

She flushes, swiping the keys off the counter and dashes out the door.

\---

Lexa’s heart is racing. Logically, she knows it shouldn’t be and she has no real reason to be this anxious. But this is their first official date as a couple and she has no idea what to expect. Clarke had done an irritatingly great job of remaining tight-lipped about the entire plan for the evening and the only tip Lexa managed to weasel out of her girlfriend was that she should dress comfortably, which really wasn’t much to go by.

She opts for a simple skater skirt, tucking a soft pastel top into the waistline, fastening a loose, thin belt around herself before flipping her hair once more. Just as she’s satisfied with her appearance, a knock resounds from the apartment door.

She smiles, heart skipping as she answers. Framed by white wooden trim stands Clarke, in a pair of black leather shorts and white tank top. It’s not her usual attire, but Lexa can definitely appreciate the change, eyes trailing down her girlfriend’s smooth legs until they come to her black Converse, laces undone. She giggles, enjoying the small sense of familiarity as she kneels wordlessly, slender fingers working quickly to tie the strands back into place. When she stands, meeting her girlfriend’s gaze, she notices that her blue eyes have darkened from a sky blue to a dark sapphire.

“Sorry.” Clarke says with a bashful pink in her cheeks. “I’m a mess.” She shakes her head to ward off what Lexa can only assume is a lustful thought.

“Yeah,” Lexa smirks. “But I like it.”

The red deeps.

“You look really nice.” The blonde compliments with a bite of her lip as she shamelessly scans Lexa’s figure.

“So do you.” The brunette rasps in return, leaning invitingly into her girlfriend’s personal space.

Clarke swiftly captures her bottom lip between her own but it all ends too soon.

“If we start, I’m not going to be able to focus.” The blonde groans adorably with a conflicted pout.

Lexa chuckles, wrapping her hands around Clarke’s waist, pecking her nose. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. What’s the plan?”

“Well, I was thinking we could take a little walk to dinner.” The artist suggests. “I have a nice little reservation set up, actually.”

“Do you?” Lexa raises a brow suspiciously. “And where might that be?”

“Not far.”

“But aren’t you going to tell me where?” She leans in again, batting her eyes with an innocent jut of her bottom lip. She sees a flash of Clarke’s resolve wavering in her eyes.

“Lexa!” Clarke whines and the brunette tosses her head back in laughter.

“Okay, okay.” She gives, “Lead the way.”

Clarke takes her by the hand, not letting go of her gentle grip until they arrive at their destination.

\---

“Hello! I’m Aden and I’ll be your server tonight. And may I just say that you are the most…” He pauses to glance into the apron pocket tied around his neck.

“I mean… you are the most beautiful and breathtaking person in the world. Clarke is very lucky to have you as her date this evening.” The strawberry blond boy recites, shooting the blonde a grin as he pours them each a glass of sparkling cider from the picnic basket that Clarke must have already dropped off before she picked Lexa up. She gives him a thumbs up of approval and Lexa gives Clarke a kick under the table with a chuckle, wondering how much she’s paying the poor kid to put up with this.

She glances around as Aden sets the table for them. The swingset has been redecorated with battery powered fairy lights hanging from it’s top beam, weaving around the handles of the swings they were now sitting on, chains twisted slightly so they could properly face each other. The blonde has also managed to somehow set up a small fold out table for their dining experience, complete with cutlery and glasses.

“For tonight’s main course, we have a lovely rosemary and garlic chicken, seasoned with extra-virgin olive oil, lemon zest, wine, and the chef’s secret ingredient.” Aden continues while Lexa pretends to listen with rapt attention. But she finds her eyes drifting towards the woman sitting across the table from her.

“So how much are you paying him?” She asks when Aden scampers off to bring them their meal from wherever the picnic supplies is hidden.

“Psh, what?” Clarke feigns. “Aden is doing this because he adores me and would do absolutely anything for me.”

“Mhmm.” Lexa rolls her eyes.

“Hey Aden,” She calls out to the bushes. A few moments later, a freckled face emerges. “Yes, Miss Woods?”

“How much is Clarke paying you to do this?”

“Uhh,” He looks hesitantly between the couple, finally catching something in Clarke’s eye that decides his answer. “Nothing. I’m doing this because you deserve the best?” He says questioningly.

Lexa snorts as Clarke beams, crossing her arms across her chest with a satisfied grin.

“Oh yeah, what if I told you I’d double it.”

His jaw drops and he looks conflicted at her girlfriend, eyes pleading for some sort of out.

“When you double zero, you still get zero.” Aden eventually replies. Lexa throws her head back in laughter.

“Well-played, kid.” Clarke compliments, hitting Lexa with a smug smile.

She shakes her head good-naturedly, allowing him to finish up with his tasks, but not before subtly slipping a ten dollar bill into his front apron pocket.

After delivering their food, Clarke sends him off with a ruffle to his hair and a quick hug. She whispers something into his ear and he grins with nod. She also catches Clarke sliding her own $20 into his apron, but she doesn’t mention it, offering a farewell wave to the youngster as he departs.

The meal itself, starting from the appetizer all the way to dessert, is phenomenal, which still somehow comes as a surprise to Lexa. She knows that Clarke is actually an exceptional cook, but her own dietary habits suggest otherwise. The blonde eventually does retrieve the hidden stash of food from around the corner, placing the basket and collapsible table into the trunk of her car, which she parked down the block.

\---

After assisting Lexa into the vehicle, she drives them down to the National Mall where they take an easy stroll across the cobbled streets to the lighted attractions, rainbows dancing in the fountains of water reflecting the dusk of the sunset.

They sit on the ledge of one of the fountains in a comfortable silence, Lexa’s head resting on her shoulder as Clarke traces patterns on her wrist, hand pulled into her lap. She feels her girlfriend shivering just as the stars start to emerge through the clear night sky, cursing herself for leaving the cardigan at the apartment. With a kiss to her cheek, she holds out two hands, pulling Lexa to her feet.

“I know I’m really not good at doing fancy things,” She apologizes when she walks Lexa to the door. “But I hope you had a good time.”

“I didn’t have a good time.” Lexa says and Clarke’s shoulders fall. The brunette takes a step forward, cupping her cheek “I had a wonderful time.” Lexa assures.

Clarke grins from ear to ear, snaking her hands around Lexa’s waist, pressing forward to place a kiss on her girlfriend’s lips.

One kiss leads to a second. And the second leads to a third. And a third leads to question.

“Aren’t you going to spend the night?” Lexa rasps.

“I don’t really put out on the first date.” Clarke jokes, but releases her grip enough for Lexa to turn and place her key into the lock. “But a few kisses won’t hurt.” The blonde brushes the hair from her neck, placing a chaste kiss at the base of her skull as Lexa works to unlock the apartment.

“Sure,” She purrs just as the lock clicks. The second the door opens, Clarke is pulled forward, stumbling through the doorway, pink lips attaching to one another. “Just kissing.”

Somehow they manage to make it to the bedroom without injury, or separating from one another’s grasp, lost in the feeling of fingers combing through hair and breathy sounds that can no longer be differentiated between owners.

“What are we doing? Lexa asks, panting when they fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Her lips are swollen, pupils dilated, and her hips are slowly starting to roll against Clarke’s thigh. Clarke’s mind is a haze of Lexa, Lexa, Lexa.

“I don’t know.” She says honestly. All she knows is that Lexa is on top of her and it feels really, really good. “Do you want to stop?” Her hips still rising to meet against the brunette’s thigh involutarily, causing both of them to moan.

“God, no.” The brunette pants, pressing down. She flips their position over with one smooth movement.

“Tell me what you like.” She whispers sultrily in the blonde’s ear.

“I like you.” Clarke says earnestly causing Lexa to chuckle, biting the blonde’s collarbone lightly, eliciting a low groan and a jolt of her hips.

“Biting.” Lexa nods playfully. “Noted.” She says, ignoring the pickup line.

Before taking off their clothes, Clarke halts her hands. “Lexa, wait…”

Her girlfriend freezes, propping herself up on her hands.

“I just… if anything doesn’t feel right, or you’re uncomfortable, just tell me, okay? We can stop if…”

“Clarke Griffin.” Lexa cuts her off with a lighthearted roll of her eyes. “If you don’t kiss me right now, I swear…”

The blonde grins and presses her lips against the brunette’s with willing obligation.

“I just want…” Clarke’s regret flashes across her eyes when they break apart.

“I know.” Lexa cuts off. “You know that I trust you. Otherwise I definitely wouldn’t be here.” Lexa brushes a hair to tuck it behind Clarke’s ear, and the prior lust in her eyes morphs into an affectionate tenderness. “It was a long time ago. I’m okay.” She assures. “We’re okay.” She continues, peppering kisses across Clarke’s face and then trailing them down her neck and collarbone.

“I need you.” Clarke pleads, hands coming to grasp onto Lexa’s waist, sliding over the fabric of her skirt that had sinfully ridden up due to their previous activity. Her hands glide over smooth skin, unable to get enough.

“I can see that.” Lexa teases gently before sitting back on her heels to untuck her top, removing it. Clarke leans up, hands ready and waiting.

Lexa nods in confirmation and Clarke’s fingers unclasp her bra, the fabric falling between them. Clarke’s own clothing quickly follows until they’re both completely exposed.

The blonde pulls her girlfriend into her, heated skin pressed bare against each other.

“Lexa…” She says desperately as the brunette’s fingers taking a swipe at the pool between Clarke’s legs.

A moan bubbles from her throat, but Lexa quickly catches it between her lips, soothing her with soft caresses to her hips.

Her head starts spinning when Lexa begins to descend, kissing the inside of her thigh, lacing their fingers to anchor them together. Clarke may have been a player in the past, but Lexa makes her feel like a virgin. Everything with the brunette feels new, stimulating, and overwhelming in the best way possible. She feels her entire self being filled, from the ache between her legs, to the tumbling in her stomach, all the way up to her drumming heartbeat.

She lets out a whimper, gripping the curves of her girlfriend in an attempt to anchor herself.

“Shh.” Lexa whispers, shifting to place a kiss on her lips, airy breath intermingling between their mouths. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” She assures.

At the taste of herself on her lips, Clarke lets herself go, vulnerable only and completely for Lexa.

The brunette switches her technique, curling her fingers and Clarke can no longer hold it all in. She crashes, falling over the edge in what she would normally consider as an embarrassingly short amount of time.

“You alright?” Green orbs ask, thumbs brushing gentle circles over her hipbones. The action causes a few aftershock tremors, and Lexa rolls off of her to allow her a bit of time to recover. Clarke inhales slowly, a sated grin slowly spreading over her features.

“That was... quick.” The brunette supplies, placing a kiss to her temple.

“Well, you’re ridiculously sexy.” Clarke hums. “I couldn’t help it.”

Lexa blushes, ducking her head into the blonde’s neck to hide the smile that Clarke feels pressed against her pulse point instead.

“Come here,” She coaxes, wrapping her arm around the brunette to flip their positions. She hovers carefully over her girlfriend. “I want to take care of you.” Clarke says with sincerity.

The brunette softens as she eases them closer.

Clarke takes her time, not wanting to rush things, contrary to her previous sexual escapades. She wants to treat Lexa right, worshipping her for the woman that she is.

“Clarke,” Lexa breathes, legs spreading wider as the blonde finds her place between them, proceeding to attend to the sensitive buds of her nipples. Lexa pants as she latches on, massaging the other breast with her palm. The brunette’s fingers tangle in her hair as she continues.

Clarke kisses, sucks, nips, and caresses, every inch of her, but always keeps her touches intimate and careful. And when Lexa falls apart, Clarke burns the image into her mind, records the sound ringing in her ears, and captures the sensation of every nerve ending being set off. She’s certain that Lexa is the 8th world wonder.

“I stand by my previous statement.” She says, rolling onto her back to lie next to her girlfriend atop the ruffled sheets. “You, Lexa Woods, are ridiculously sexy.”

The brunette releases a puff of a laugh from her nose. “You’re not too bad yourself.” She smiles, before surprising the blonde by finding a second wind, pinning Clarke’s hands above her head. She gazes hungrily at Clarke’s body, dipping her head until she’s just millimeters from her mouth.

“Fuck me.” Clarke gasps, painfully turned on yet again.

“I mean, I just did.” Her girlfriend says smugly, capturing her lips in a heady kiss. “But I’d gladly do it again.”

Clarke shakes her head. “I’m happy with just doing this.” She opens her arms for Lexa to ease back into, the mood easily transitioning between lustful back to domestic.

“Okay.” Lexa whispers, placing a kiss atop of her breast, right over her heart beat. Clarke lets her be, gently drawing patterns on her back and across the tattoos she has wished to draw countless times.

“That was better than any sex I’ve ever had.” Clarke finally says sleepily, body spent and heart satiated.

“Yeah?” Lexa looks up from where her head has been resting on Clarke’s chest. Kiss-bruised lips tilt to the side in that signature smirk that Clarke should have known from the beginning would be the end of her.

“Don’t get cocky.” The blonde scolds playfully, arching to give her chest a jerk causing Lexa to bobble.

“I’m not.” Lexa laughs, waiting for the blonde to settle before resituating herself into the previous position. Her fingers skim lightly along the blonde’s jaw, green eyes still watching her.

“Hmm.” Clarke hums in contentment, fingers threading through the brunette’s waves, combing through the wild sex-hair.

“Do you know why it was better than sex?” Lexa eventually asks, a sparkle dancing in her emerald orbs.

The blonde nods, turning to place a kiss to the brunette’s knuckles, palm, and finally her wrist.

“Because it wasn’t just sex.” Clarke confesses, locking with the brunette’s green eyes that are warm and genuine, filled with enough affection for Clarke to drown in again and again, ten times over.

“We…” it sounds silly in her head and she giggles, burying her face in the sheets.

_Clarke Griffin, you have officially lost all sense of cool._

_Sorry not sorry._

Because being here, right now, lying completely bare next to Lexa is the greatest feeling and she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

“We made love.” Lexa says confidently and Clarke peeks her eyes out from behind the sheets. Her heart soars.

“Yes we did.” She agrees. “I love you, Lexa Woods.”

“I love you too, Clarke Griffin.”

“Make love to me again.” She requests of the brunette as she bites her lip playfully.

Lexa grins as she eagerly moves to straddles her waist. “Gladly.”

\---

Lexa wakes up to Clarke gone and a terrible wave of anxiety washes of her. After everything they’d been through, she couldn’t believe that Clarke reverted back to her “fuckboy” ways. She frowns, throwing the sheets off her body before scurrying around the room to pick up the discarded articles of clothing from the night before. Just as she’s about to grab her t-shirt from where it dangles precariously from the desk chair, she catches glimpse of a bright post-it note and Clarke’s unique handwriting.

_Didn’t want to wake you. I’m in the living room.- C_

She sighs in relief, quickly slipping on a t-shirt before padding out of the bedroom. Her feet kick against a foreign object in the process and she squats to retrieve the fallen snapback that she had knocked off the blonde’s curls in her eagerness.

She smiles to herself, placing it on her head for safekeeping before rounding the corner of the apartment. Her heart flutters when she sees her girlfriend sitting cross-legged on the floor, bedhead tied into a messy bun. She’s wearing one of Lexa’s button-ups, though the actual buttons are undone due to the fact the Clarke is much more endowed in that department than Lexa. Still, the sight of her makes Lexa’s stomach do flips.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Clarke looks up from her makeshift workspace. “I may have actually gotten some paint on it.” She looks down at herself. Sure enough, a small drop of acrylic paint has made its mark on the left breast pocket.

Lexa chuckles, shaking her head before approaching. She points her finger in the small spot, smearing it into a sad excuse for a finger-painted heart. Clarke doesn’t seem bothered by her subpar artistry, returning her attention back to Lexa.

“I don’t mind.” She says, kissing soft golden curls as she settles beside her. “What are you working on?”

Clarke had managed to drag some supplies from her room without waking her from her slumber. The blank canvases that were normally stashed against her dresser are now propped against coffee table, streaming with lively colors.

“Another painting for the new gallery exhibit.” The blonde says cryptically as she gestures to the stockpile around them. “It’s more of a series though, I guess.”

Lexa takes a moment to properly observe them. One by one, she recognizes them. Her eyes well with tears as she’s met with reflections of herself, her profile, various angles of her form, her tattoos, her wrist with flecks of gold and intricate patterns shaded into her skin…

“Is that…” She gapes. “Are these all of me?”

Clarke nods, handing over a small index card where she has written the title of the collection.

_Making ______

Lexa cocks a brow, confused by the blank space. “Am I supposed to…”

“Turn it over.” Clarke hints.

The brunette does as she’s told, reading the subheading with a bit of difficultly, tears clouding her vision.

_There are two things in this world that I want to do endlessly: make art and make love. And with you, they are one in the same._

She surges forward, only to be stopped by the rim of the snapback bumping into Clarke’s forehead.

“Sorry.” She giggles.  

Clarke simply looks back at her with adoration, removing the cap and setting it on the table.

“Now, where were we?” the blonde husks.

Lexa tugs her by the collar, properly connecting their lips.

“Good morning, Clarke.” She hums.

“Good morning, Masterpiece.” The artist returns.

“You’re such a sap.” She accuses, though her cheeks are now aflame.  

“Only for you.” Clarke beams, placing the cap back on the brunette’s head. “Don’t tell anyone else though.” She smirks.

“I don’t think I have to.” The brunette retorts, tilting her chin at the paintings scattered around them.

“Touché.” She chuckles. “I guess you’re my exception that I’d bend the rules for.” She says with a wiggle of her brow.

“Care to bend for me in other ways?” She challenges with a sly proposition.

“What?!” the blonde’s eyes widen.

Lexa bursts into laughter, mischievous demeanor falling away. “Yoga, Clarke. I’m talking about yoga.”

“You did that on purpose!” She says, appalled.

“I did.” The brunette admits unashamedly. “But for the record, you’re my exception too. And I’d gladly bend for you.” She says with a wink before sauntering into the kitchen to make them breakfast.

She gets through cracking the eggs before a pair of paint-stained hands snake around her waist.

“Breakfast can wait.” Her girlfriend whispers in her ear. “Let’s work on my flexibility.” Clarke says huskily, turning the knob to extinguish the flames on the stove.

Lexa laughs, following her girlfriend back into the bedroom. Truth be told, they do a lot of bending after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took just a little over a year to complete this fic, but hey, I did it! Thank you to everyone who read and stuck around. I know I had a very sporadic updating schedule, but hopefully it was worth the wait. I hope you liked it!

**Author's Note:**

> Stay in touch!  
> Amazon Author: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07BB6DFXN  
> Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17449889.Jessica_Yeh  
> Facebook: facebook.com/JessicaYehWrites/  
> 


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